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organic-bloodbath · 2 months ago

Note

i love ur chishiya fics so much, can u please write something about niragi because im starving over here 😔🙏🏻

3 times a charm (or maybe the 6th?)

Niragi x Reader

Summary: Five times Niragi tried to flirt with you and that one time when he succeeded.

Warnings: NSFW 18+ smut -> minors get out

A/N: Thank you ♡ I've needed to get Niragi smut out of my system. Hope you're well fed now for a moment.

Part 2

♤♧

One

You arrived to the Beach with Arisu and Usagi. Half of the people at the pool party stopped and turned to look at you, making you feel a little awkward of the attention you were pulling to yourself.

A few people introduced themselves to you, until you noticed a certain man looking at you from head to toe, his stare more intense than the others there.

"Hey there, pretty face," a man with black hair smirked, walking towards you. "What's your name?"

You rolled your eyes, already able to tell what kind of man you were about to be dealing with. "What's it to you?"

"Well, i'd like to have a name to call you with, but i can keep 'pretty face' too if you're into that," he smiled.

You hesitated for a few seconds, studying his face for a moment. He was probably around your age, certainly taller than you and, you had to admit, quite a good-looking too. "Y/N."

"Pretty name for a pretty girl," he smirked and offered his hand to you. "Niragi. Pleasure to meet you."

You hesitantly took his hand in yours to shake it, but when he had a grip on you, he yanked you forward so fast that you almost tripped, crashing against his chest. He lifted your face upwards to make eye contact with you by his forefinger under your chin.

"Can't wait to get to know you better, Y/N," he said quietly, biting his lower lip as he quickly glanced at your lips. It happened so fast you could have easily imagined it though.

Him saying your name outloud made your heart flutter a little, and his words were about to make you slightly blush, so you were fast to brush his hand off your face and return to hang out with Arisu and Usagi.

"I don't think so," you said right before you left him alone.

You could feel Niragi's stare on you when you walked away from him without another word.

♤♧

Two

You were on your way to the pool when Niragi appeared behind a corner, almost crashing on you.

"There you are," Niragi greeted, a smile spreading on his face.

"Um, hello?" you slowly said, confused and eyebrows furrowed.

Niragi pushed you backwards until your back hit the wall. He trapped you there, hands on both sides of your head.

"Finally got you alone, princess," Niragi grinned. "Want to have some fun, hm?"

"I'll pass," you stated coldly, face completely serious. Niragi slowly dropped his hands down, moving to rest them on your hips instead.

"Come on, princess. I can make you feel so –"

You lifted your leg, your knee kicking him hard on his crotch. Niragi folded in half in pain, falling on his knees on the floor. You pushed him to lay on his back, keeping him there by laying your foot on his chest. His face looked genuinely surprised.

"Call me princess again and i won't be as gentle with you anymore," you gritted between your teeth.

Niragi only grinned. "Sorry, but your effort of intimidating me backfired a little because that was actually pretty hot."

You just huffed and left him to lay there without another word.

"You'll give in at some point, sweetheart!"

♤♧

Three

You were laying by the pool in your red bikinis when you felt a shadow landing on top of you.

"You're blocking the sun," you muttered.

You thought he had left you alone when the shadow was gone, but when you opened your eyes, you saw him laying down next to you, only a small gap between your bodies.

"Niragi, can you get it into your head already – i'm not going to sleep with you," you sighed, starting to get really annoyed.

"Hey, i didn't even mention anything about sex now, no need to get defensive," Niragi said but you saw the usual smug grin on his face. "You look good in bikinis though."

"Thanks," you spat with no actual gratitude. "What do you want?"

"I thought we should get to know each other better."

"You want to get to know me?" you asked, getting up enough to lean on your elbows. You narrowed your eyes, feeling suspicious. "Why?"

"You intrigue me," he admitted.

"I intrigue you?" you repeated, sure you heard him correctly. "Just because i'm pretty and i don't want to fuck you?"

Niragi let out a laugh. "Partly."

"There's literally dozens of girls here, why don't you go bother someone else?"

He turned to lay on his side, his body towards you. "Because you're different. We're more alike than you think."

"Yeah? How exactly are we alike?"

"First of all – you're hot, i'm hot."

"Me? Obviously. You? Debatable," you corrected him.

"Excuse me?" Niragi said, raising his eyebrows and pretending to act offended. "You don't think i'm hot?"

"I've seen better," you shrugged, trying to act all nonchalant.

"See, that's the second thing we have in common – mocking sarcasm," he pointed out.

"And a third thing?" you asked.

"We're both outcast."

"You don't even know me," you stated. "How can you know i'm outcast? I could have been the most popular and wanted girl in our school."

"Oh, i'm sure you were wanted by many, many guys," he grinned, eyeing your body again, until he narrowed his eyes, locking eyes with you. "But i can tell you were the black sheep. You don't follow and do what other people do just because the society tells you you should act certain way."

You furrowed your brows. You hated when people were able to read you. You wanted to deny every word he claimed to be true about you, but you couldn't do that.

"See, i knew i was correct," he said when he got only silence from you, clearly proud of himself.

"Shut up," you spat.

"What do i have to do for you to stop resisting my company so hard, hm?" he asked. "Do i have to bring you flowers or whatever the hell girls like to get as gifts?"

"Giving gifts shouldn't be an obligation," you said. "And i don't care about flowers."

"What do you care about then?" Niragi asked, narrowing his eyes and mentally taking notes.

"I know you only care about getting into my pants and i'm not that kind of girl."

To be honest, you'd had hookups with a few men you knew you'd never see again afterwards and you had nothing against that. Sometimes mindless sex with no commitments was what you needed, but for some reason you didn't want to give in to Niragi, no matter how good-looking you had to admit he was – you'd never say it outloud to his face though. You didn't want to make his ego any bigger.

"You're not, hm?" he asked. "Do i have to buy you a dinner first?"

"No, thank you," you refused and turned your face away from him. You closed your eyes and tried to ignore him, continuing to enjoy the sun.

"Well, what do i need to do to get your attention?"

"You could start by going away."

♤♧

Four

A guy approached you and this time, it wasn't Niragi. "Hey, there," he greeted with a smug grin on his face, eyeing you from head to toe. Way to go to be subtle. "What's your name, beautiful?"

"Too-good-for-you," you responded and crossed your arms against your chest, as if that would cover enough of you wearing only the bikini top. You felt awfully exposed under his hungry gaze.

"Sassy, i like that," he grinned. "Come on, we should get to know each other." He stepped closer, while you took automatically a step back.

"No thanks," you said, trying to put a polite smile on your face.

"What's going on here?" a familiar voice asked, appearing next to you out of thin air. You smelled his cologne when he pulled you close to his side, arm around your waist.

The man, whose name you didn't know, made eye contact with Niragi, trying to look all defensive.

"Sorry, but i think i was talking to her, so i'd suggest you to leave," the man stated, and you were a little taken aback how directly he was defending himself to Niragi.

"I don't think so, pal," Niragi said, giving him a death stare. After a moment of trying to decide if he should stand up to Niragi or not, the man walked away, knowing Niragi owned a gun.

Nobody wanted to make a man, who owned a gun, angry.

You hadn't fully realised that Niragi was actually touching you, keeping you against him, since you had been partly even grateful that he had stepped in to get the man away from you. You quickly pushed him away.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

"I'm not going to let other men touch my girl," he stated like saying a fact everyone should obviously know.

"I'm not your girl," you denied and crossed your arms.

"Yeah? Still, you didn't pull away when i grabbed you like this," he pointed out and pulled you against him one more time by your waist, his touch sending you goosebumps around your body, radiating to every direction from the spot his hand was resting. "Admit it, you like that i show others i've claimed you."

"You haven't claimed me!" you shouted, a little too loudly, trying to push him away from you but he wouldn't let go right away.

"Tell yourself whatever you want, pretty face," Niragi smirked.

You didn't want to admit it to yourself but you did like it when he had his hand on your skin.

♤♧

Five

"She's the witch! Let's burn her!"

A man lifted you up and threw you over his shoulder, carrying you towards the fire outside.

"Let go of me!" you screamed.

You were hitting his back with your fists, trying to get him to let you down but his grip was too tight, and he didn't mind the little pain against his back you were causing. You were trying to kick him with your feet but it was no use, he was a lot stronger and bigger compared to you. You were starting to get awfully close to the fire.

Burning alive wasn't on your list of preferred causes of death.

"Hey, asshole!" someone yelled, making the man carrying you stop on his tracks. "Put the lady down immediately."

You recognised the voice easily, you'd recognise it everywhere by now.

"But, but she might be the witch!"

"Shut the fuck up and put her down," Niragi commanded.

He let you down, probably having a gun pointed at his face. As you had been put down, that same man fell down on the ground almost instantly, a bullet pierced right through his forehead.

"Was that really necessary?" you asked and crossed your arms against your chest.

"He was just about to throw you in the fire," he stated, stepping closer to you, only a little gap between your bodies. You didn't back away from him. "A thank you would be nice."

"Well, thank you," you muttered and avoided eye contact with him, but he turned your face towards him with his hand on your cheek.

"Don't you think i deserve a kiss for saving you?" Niragi asked, lifting his left eyebrow.

"A kiss?" you asked, not sure if you heard him correctly. "You genuinely want only one kiss?"

"Yes."

"I don't think so," you chuckled.

"Come on, sweetheart, it's only a kiss, i'm not going to start ripping your clothes off," Niragi smirked. "We don't have time for that right now."

"On the cheek," you insisted.

"Better than nothing."

You rolled your eyes and leaned in to press a kiss on his cheek, but just in time he turned his head so that you kissed him straight on his lips.

You gasped in horror and was about to slap him on the cheek, but he figured out you'd lift your hand to do that and grabbed your wrist.

"Calm down, princess," Niragi said, smile on his face. "You can admit that you liked it."

"I didn't," you stated, but a part of you would have wanted to do that again. Properly to see how his lips really felt like on yours.

"Tell yourself whatever you want." He winked at you and then left you alone, resting his gun against his shoulder.

For a moment you looked after him, keeping your finger on your lower lip, cheeks warming up a little bit.

♤♧

Six

You had entered the King of Clubs game with your friends, and had surprisingly gotten the man who had become obsessed with you along – Niragi, of course.

Currently, you were standing next to Niragi, just the two of you, facing a man from the opposite team. You didn't have much time left to beat the game, your team was losing and your death was near. Still, you had to take every point you'd get.

Niragi offered his hand to you. You only looked at it with a slight disgust on your face.

"Come on," Niragi rolled his eyes. "It's just for the game."

You hesitantly took his hand in yours, raising your points to 5400. You managed to touch the man, adding 500 points for your team and making the man curse under his breath.

"See how good team we are," Niragi leaned in to whisper into your ear, his hot breath on your skin sending tingles down your spine.

You tried to yank your hand off but Niragi wouldn't let go.

"Niragi, let go of me," you groaned.

"But your hand feels so nice," he complained.

"Nice?" You lifted your eyebrows. "My hand feels nice?"

"Yeah, it's softer than i imagined," Niragi plainly said.

"You've imagined what my hand would feel like?" you asked.

"Sweetheart, i've imagined what your entire body would feel like on mine," Niragi whispered, now standing in front of you, extremely close.

"I told you, i'm not going to sleep with you," you insisted.

"Mhm," he hummed. "You know that our team is clearly losing and we only have 15 minutes to live. Might as well use it better than dwelling on self pity how we're going to die soon. Don't you think?"

Niragi lifted his hand on your cheek, but you brushed it off and turned around to leave. Before you were able to get further than a few steps, Niragi grabbed your elbow, pulling you back.

"Why don't we finish what we should have started at the Beach, hm?" he murmured in your ear, standing behind you and wrapping his arm around your waist. "We're gonna die anyway soon so why waste the time just sitting around when we can make a use of it?"

Niragi had tried to get your clothes off since the day he first saw you but you had resisted him every time he was about to put his hands on you.

The only thing you were able to think about right now was that you truly were going to die soon. There was no hope for you anymore, for none of your friends. Why not replace all that pouting and depressed waiting with one round of mindless, meaningless sex - even if it was with Niragi.

"Oh for fuck's sake," you mumbled and turned around, seeing the hungry smirk on his scarred face. You were going to hate yourself for this but you didn't care to think anymore, sure you were dead meat already.

You pulled Niragi into a kiss, and he didn't hesitate a moment longer to kiss you back, forcefully sneaking his tongue inside your mouth to taste every part of you.

He pulled your top off, admiring the view of your bare upper body. He was about to unclasp your bra as well, but you slapped his hand away.

"Even though we're about to die, you don't get to see everything," you stated seriously, amusing Niragi.

"I like how hard to get you're constantly playing with me," he smirked. "Even now."

He pushed you against the red container behind you, your bare back being glued on the cold metal. Niragi pulled your shorts down and didn't hesitate a second longer, pushing two fingers into your vagina, making you let out a loud gasp.

"Yes, be as loud as you can, princess," Niragi murmured and pumped his fingers harder inside you, curling his fingers and hitting just the right spots, as if he had done this to you already many times before.

"Oh, fuck," you gasped, but then he pulled his fingers off and started unbuckling his belt to get his pants off. You shot him an angry glare.

"Time's running, we don't have time to do everything and i want to cum inside your sweet little pussy before i die," he growled, making you even more aroused than before.

He stroked his cock a few times and then pushed inside you. You let out a loud moan, not able to keep it down.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he grunted against your neck.

He grabbed your ass, lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist and didn't let you adjust more than a few seconds, starting to push in and out of you roughly.

Having him inside you, you started to regret a little for pushing him away at the Beach. You didn't want to admit it to yourself though. You didn't want him to know that he had finally won after his several attempts, but being inside you he was well aware of that.

Just now you realised how much you truly had craved sex and having someone this close to you – even if it was Niragi.

He moaned and grunted against your neck as he fastened his pace. He started sucking on different spots around your neck until he found one which made you insane and feel so good. You could feel his tongue piercing against your skin, the metal ball feeling slightly cold.

"Oh my god," you moaned, grabbing his hair roughly with your fingers.

You were starting to reach your climax, sharp nails digging on his shoulders, most definitely leaving marks. He came right after you, his body squeezing you harder against the large container when he let his body relax a little bit, but still managing to keep you up and not make you fall on the ground.

"My god, you felt so good," Niragi sighed, brushing your hair behind your ear, taking you into a hungry kiss.

Suddenly, a familiar female voice spoke again.

"The scores have changed," the voice announced. "The player team now leads with 500 points."

Both you and Niragi stopped moving, breaking the kiss, freezing to your places as you turned your heads to the large white screen showing the scores of both teams.

"What the-"

"Fuck," you breathed out.

There was only a minute left of the game by now and your team was suddenly winning. You weren't going to die? What the hell had Arisu and the others done?

Niragi looked at you, grinning.

"Well, well," he mumbled. "I guess we can have a round two some other day, since we won't die after all."

You scoffed, pushed him off you and pulled your shorts back on.

"Not going to happen," you denied and shook your head, pulling your top on as well. Right after, Niragi pulled you towards him, your back against his chest once again.

"Well, i'm sure we'll end up in another situation where we're gonna die in a few minutes and you'll need a quick last minute fuck," Niragi said and lowered his voice into a whisper, speaking right into your ear. He brought his hand up and massaged your left breast. "I'll be there waiting for you, princess."

You pushed him off again, a little too roughly. Cum was dripping down your leg. You brushed the cum on your hand and cleaned it on Niragi's shirt.

"Oh you want to attach your smell on me so i surely won't stop thinking about you, huh?"

"Think whatever you want, i don't care. I just don't see a sink or toilet paper here to clean myself up right now."

Arisu, Kuina and Usagi saw you and Niragi approaching them a few minutes later.

"Where have you two been?" Usagi asked, looking genuinely worried with her furrowed brows. "We've been looking for you."

Niragi smirked. "Wouldn't you want to know."

You smacked him on his chest and gave him a death stare. "Not. A. Word," you gritted through your teeth.

Your words managed to only amuse Niragi even more.

♤♧

#niragi imagine #niragi x reader #niragi suguru #alice in borderland x reader #alice in borderland imagine #aib imagine #aib x reader #aib niragi #niragi smut #suguru niragi

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dumbbitchgalore · 1 year ago

Text

tf141 hanging out together and finding out that old man!Price has a girlfriend 💫

The crowded pub bustles with the commontion of drunkards of varying degrees. Some slightly tipsy while others have decided to forgo their pants in the name of the King.

And then there's a group of men occupying a table at the corner of the pub. Simon with his balaclava on, Kyle with a cigarette between his fingers savouring the arcid flavour and Johnny ogling some girls on the other side of the pub.

All that was left was John, who makes his way to the table with four pints of beer. He sits down at the table with a grunt as he passes each on of the boys a glass. They all start chatting and catching up about everything's thats happened after Price's retirement.

Johnny begins to bitch and whine about the new captain saying how uptight he was critising everything the squad does that John would've probably turned a blind eye to.

John chuckles slightly, listening to them all talk about what's is going on with the taskforce. Despite the smile on his face, there is a bitter resentment inside of him, gnawing at him.

Useless, useless, useless

He takes a swig of his drink hoping that it'll calm his worries down. And lo and behold he receives a call from you, his baby. He smiles to himself and picks up the phone.

"Hey birdie, doing okay by yourself at home?" He asks softly.

That one sentence caught the attention of the other boys as they give each other quizzical looks. Who the hell could their former captain be talking to?

His mother, maybe his sisters? Nah, he wouldn't call any other birdie.

They listen to John's gravelly voice and breathy laughs as he talks to the mystery person on the phone.

What felt like hours to the boys and a few fleeting seconds for John, he hangs up and faces the group. He raises an eyebrow when he sees their faces contorted into expressions of confusion and curiosity.

"What?" John asks slightly defensively

"Who's the birdie, Captain?" Johnny asks with a tooth grin.

John shakes his head, "my girlfriend." he says in a matter-of-fact tone.

Their jaws drop to the floor. Shocked would be an understatement as to what they were feeling and thinking right now.

"You sure it's not schizophrenia, sir?" Kyle asks.

John huffs in annoyance. What the hell? Couldn't they just accept that John finally had someone in his life. A perfect little doll who patiently waits for him at home.

They all start to laugh obnoxiously, barking and howling as if they were witnessing a circus show. And John's irritation grew tenfold and he huffs a sigh of annoyance.

"Oi captain, why don't you show us a picture of your birdie and then maybe we'll believe ya. Or well just keep thinking that the sarin gas is still in your system." Simon says, followed by a cackle.

John rolls his eyes and opens his photo gallery and shows the trio a photo of you and him. The picture is of the two of you in bed, with you resting your head on his shoulder with a smile on your face as John is still fast asleep. Evidence of the previous night's lustful tendancies still apparent on both of them.

This time their jaws drop for certain as the tangible evidence is placed in front of them. You're beautiful, and that fucked-out, post orgasm face is something else. This isn't fair. How did Price get blessed with a beauty such as yourself.

Soap scowls and scoffs looking away and crossing his arms in annoyance. While Kyle gushes about how lucky Price his to hide his jealously rearing its ugly head. And simon simply stares at the photo with a discerning expression on his face.

John smiply smiles, his ego fuelled and his pride sky high.

"Well boys, I gotta get back to my doll. Maybe next time I'll bring her along." He exits the pub, leaving the boys all confused and jealous.

#john price #john price cod #john price smut #john price x reader #captain john #cod smut #tf 141 #tf141 smut #captain price #john price x you #old man!price #ri's rants

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minh907 · 13 days ago

Note

Maybe for Jingwoo you could do an angst story ( I’m alway here for angst ).

Another idea is maybe making a friends to lovers story where in the beginning Y/N (or reader) was with Jingwoo in the double dungeon and was the only one who stayed behind for him. So they both got beaten up pretty badly, if you want to make it more interesting maybe they both become players. But I was thinking when they land on the “alter” Y/N (or reader) proclaims their love for Jingwoo, and what he assumes to be his last words, says it back to them. But they wake up in the hospital and from there you can use your imagination :) just some ideas

Farewell.

Sung Jinwoo x Isekai!Reader. Angst, Open or maybe Sad Ending.

This finished earlier than I expect. And I think this is the longest oneshort I've ever write.

Sorry for the long waiting again. Hope you like this. I love you all 💗.

_________________________

[Hello, L/n Y/n] [Congratulations, you have been selected as the first person to experience our isekai system. You have received an invitation to the world of Solo Leveling Note: You cannot return to this world if you press Accept [Do you want to go?] [Accept | Decline]

One night, while you were sleeping, you suddenly dreamed that you entered a majestic and magnificent space, covered with blue stones whose names you did not know.

You found yourself standing on a large platform, before your eyes was a strange screen.

The air was thick with silence, the soft hum of energy surrounding you as you stood before the strangely glowing screen.

The invitation, still fresh in your mind, had come to you in a dream. An offer to leave this world for a new one, a world you were only familiar with through the pages of your favorite manhwa, Solo Leveling.

You accepted without hesitation. Of course, who would miss this opportunity. Then the world spin brings you into complete darkness before you even know what happened.

Opening your eyes reveals a totally unfamiliar setting.

__________________________

It was raining that day, you stood in the middle of the park, barefoot on the cold cement floor, your eyes still not used to the image of this world. The rain fell heavily, splashing cold drops of water on your face, and your body shivered from hunger, and confusion.

"Welcome, special player," the system's voice rang in your head for the third time, cold and emotionless, as if everything was a pre-determined program. "Congratulations on successfully entering the world of Solo Leveling, hope you will have fun here. I'll be your assistant, please call me when you need."

Your body shivered as you held yourself tightly while your clothes remained wet. Your forehead was covered in wet hair while your feet remained cold from the frozen state. The world around you remained blurred like a distant memory from your dream state.

You shivered slightly, hugging your drenched body with both hands. Your hair was sticking to you. "System...?" you muttered, your voice trembling.

"Yes, I am here," the system replied, its voice as flat as an emotionless recording. "You are a special player. Your privileges include: a unique skill system, an ability to grow beyond limits, and an undisclosed mission. Time to adapt to the new world: 72 hours."

This world was truly Solo Leveling. You told yourself, trying to calm yourself as cold drops of rain continued to fall on your face. Where were you? What point in the story? A cold wind blew past you, causing you to collapse. No suitable clothes, no food, no shelter. You groaned. 'Why did the system bring me here without giving me any identity!!?'

At that moment, footsteps rang out from afar. You turned around, reflexively.

A woman and a boy were walking through the park. He stopped when he saw you, his eyes wide with surprise. He pulled his mother's shirt and pointed at you.

You recognize the boy.

Sung Jinwoo.

...But he's so small. You realize you have transformed into a child of 8 or 10 years old during that moment.

Kyung-hye leads Jinwoo by the hand while she greets "Hello, who are you?" with a gentle smile. "Where are your parents? Why are you standing in the rain like this?"

You're still so shocked that you unconsciously shake your head. Kyung-hye thinks that means you don't have any relatives (although that's true at the moment.)

Jinwoo remains beside his mother while staring at you with his eyes. Jinwoo extends his hand to his mother as he asks her permission to bring you home. "Can she go home with us?"

The unexpected offer from her son made Kyung-hye turn her attention toward him. Heavy drops from the continuous rain kept falling onto the uneven pavement. You remained motionless like a forsaken kitten while your body trembled from the cold.

"...Do you want to help her?" Kyung-hye asked, gently, while brushing your wet hair aside to get a better look at your face.

Jinwoo nodded, his eyes unusually determined. "She's cold. We can't leave her here."

Your eyes met briefly before Kyung-hye returned a smile. "Yeah, you're right. I must not ignore this child." She lowered herself to the ground while extending her hand. "You want to visit my house today? At least to change and eat something?"

You looked at those gentle eyes, and then looked at Jinwoo. A genuine smile from the boy appeared so natural and kind that you automatically returned it.

You found comfort in a soft towel while sitting at the table with a hot bowl of porridge in your presence. Kyung-hye was worriedly stroking your hair, while Jinwoo sat across from you, eating while secretly watching you.

You tried to adapt to this small body, with shorter hair, more slender hands. The system in your head was still silent, not mentioning any mission or goal. Only a line of text appeared faintly.

[World positioning complete. Identity synchronization: complete. Temporary: living as a normal child.]

A new life had begun.

________________________________

Years passed...

You grew up next to Sung Jinwoo like it was the most natural habit in the world.

From the moment Jinwoo asked his mother to take you home, the two of you became an inseparable couple.

You and Jinwoo used to share the lunch box your mother made together, even though sometimes it was just a boiled egg or a few small pieces of ham. On days when you got bad grades, you two would sneak into the warehouse behind the school together, trembling and worried but still trying to smile to comfort each other. The times you both got punished for being naughty in class - drawing on the blackboard, imitating the teacher's voice, or secretly hiding candy in your desk - all became unforgettable memories.

You used to run away with Jinwoo from the big kids who bullied the weaker students. Jinwoo wasn't good at fighting, but he always pulled you ahead, panting but still turning back, asking softly, "Are you okay?"

And after all those times, Kyung-hye's mother would appear at the school gate, smiling gently when she saw the two of them, dirty and scruffy, still holding hands.

Time passed so peacefully that you almost forgot that this world would become chaotic in a few years.

Only your feelings for Jinwoo were always there. From the time you knew him through the pages of a comic book, until the time you actually met him.

Those feelings grew over the years.

You started off with a crush on a character before your feelings evolved into an innocent friendship. This connection required no special cause similar to the way sunlight illuminates mornings or cicadas fill summer air with their songs. Then gradually, you realized that your heart started to skip a beat every time Jinwoo smiled. A warm feeling rose when he held your hand as you crossed the street, even though he was grown up and no longer needed you.

You liked Jinwoo.

That love was not noisy, not dramatic. It crept in like the spring rains silently watering the fields of memories. But then, over time, that feeling also began to hurt you.

You still paid attention to the plot. You knew that Jinwoo would meet his destined person in the future. You were just a character added by accident. But you still couldn't help but like him.

Everyone knew you liked Jinwoo.

Even Jinah, his younger sister, when she grew up, used to look at you with both curiosity and certainty. One summer afternoon, when the three of them were peeling fruit in the living room, Jinah suddenly asked in a nonchalant voice.

"You like my oppa, right?"

You were stunned. Just for a second. But it was enough for your face to turn red. You smiled, changing the subject by shoving a piece of apple into Jinah's hand, saying, "Eat it, or the apple will turn brown."

Only Jinwoo didn't know.

He only sees you as a friend, a sister, nothing more, nothing less.

You don't blame him.

It's just that sometimes you wish Jinwoo would look back at you a little more. Not with the eyes of a close friend, but with a softer, deeper gaze, like you've always looked at him all these years.

______________________

And then the incident came like a flood, without warning, without mercy.

The peaceful world began to crack when the first dungeon gates appeared. Strange, violent creatures beyond imagination began to pour out of nowhere, spreading panic and destruction everywhere. Ordinary people were no longer strong enough to fight back. But then - along with the danger - people with supernatural powers also awakened one by one. They were called Hunters.

In that chaos, the Sung family could not escape the vortex of fate.

Sung Il-Hwan, the calm and responsible father, was one of the first to awaken the power of a hunter. With a rare ability, he joined the raiding team with the desire to protect humanity from the threats of the dungeon. But during a high-level raid, the gate slammed shut - and he never returned.

The name Sung Il-Hwan became a silent mark in the missing person records. No body, no clues. Only a void remained, deeply embedded in Jinwoo's heart and the whole family's.

The pain had not yet subsided when another disaster struck.

Mrs. Kyung-hye, Jinwoo's mother, could not adapt to the environment that was gradually being eroded by mana. Her normal human body could not withstand the waves of mana emitted by the hunters. One morning, she collapsed without warning. The doctor called it Eternal Slumber - a deep coma that current medicine could not explain or cure.

She was still there, lying motionless in the cold hospital room, as if she were sleeping a long, endless sleep.

And so, the Sung family - once warm and filled with laughter in the small house - now had only three people left.

Jinah, Jinwoo's little sister, tried to be strong every day, hiding her tears behind her strong eyes so as not to become a burden to her brother.

Jinwoo, awakened with only E-rank power, now has to shoulder the whole family, amidst the life-and-death battles and the loneliness that gnaws at his mind.

And you - who is by their side like a remaining piece of peace, a friend who accidentally gets caught up in the story of people who shoulder a fate beyond the ordinary.

So the story has officially begun.

At the same time, the Isekai System - which you once considered an echo from an old dream, a part of a distant memory after long days of living as a normal human - suddenly reappeared.

After many years of silence, it reappeared with a mission for you.

[System mission has been activated.] [Main mission: Support the protagonist until he achieves Shadow Power.] [Note: When you complete it, you can choose your own path, as long as it does not affect the story.]

It was just a simple command, but it was like a cold knife cutting through your heart. You stood there, looking at the message that appeared before your eyes, unable to do anything but accept it. Because you knew this was not a dream. And from now on, things would never be the same again.

The Double Dungeon event occurred. A seemingly normal raid turned into hell. Blood spilled, people fell. Lives were crushed without mercy. And in the middle of that boundary between life and death, Jinwoo opened his eyes to a System of his own. A System as powerful, mysterious, and cruel as his own fate.

He began to change. With each passing day, his body grew taller, stronger, his eyes sharper. Old wounds healed, pain disappeared.

But in the process, you also gradually realized that it was not only his body that changed - but the world around him was shifting.

The story began to roll.

Jinwoo was no longer the clumsy, gentle Jinwoo of the past. He was now the center of an approaching storm. Big names began to notice him. Fierce battles, life-or-death choices, and pre-arranged fate.

You knew - the time would come when he would meet Cha Hae-in. That girl, that gaze, that position in the script was predetermined from the beginning. Even though you've never met her, you know that no one can replace her in Jinwoo's destined role.

And you?

You're just a supporter. A good friend who always stands behind, takes care of every wound, takes care of every meal, wipes the blood off his hands without asking where he came from. An outsider, witnessing the love story forming from afar, in silence. And someone who secretly likes him.

But you have to close it. Lock it tightly. Because you understand the rules of the game. You're not allowed to love. You're not allowed to interfere with a pre-written storyline.

You're a variable. And variables never have a happy ending.

________________________________

He met her.

Cha Hae-in.

The girl with eyes like a calm lake, always reflecting calmness and kindness - a beauty so pure that it seemed like it could wash away all the ruins in the person's soul. An S-rank Hunter, but gentler than anyone you've ever known.

You stood there silently behind. When Jinwoo's eyes met hers, you saw light.

The light that had appeared in Jinwoo's eyes when he woke up after the Double Dungeon incident, realized that he was still alive, realized that he still had a chance to fix everything, realized that he could still see his family, see you. But now, that light was no longer directed towards you.

In that moment, the world seemed to stop.

You, a person who had gone through countless scenes in this story, suddenly understood. That it wasn't that you weren't good enough. It's just that you're not the one destined to be in this story.

You're an outsider. A sideline. A nameless shadow.

Time passed.

Jinwoo grew stronger, taller, colder. He became an icon. The one who holds the darkness. The one who breaks all limits. At the same time, your mission was completed, but you did not choose to leave, you still wanted to stay by Jinwoo's side a little longer.

And then Jinwoo successfully created the Holy Water of Life.

His mother - Kyung-hye - woke up.

You stood outside the hospital room's glass window. Inside, Jinwoo burst into tears. Those tears were unlike any you had ever seen on his face, not tears of loss, or hatred, or victory. But tears of life.

Jinwoo also became an S-rank hunter, successfully making a name for himself. He also quickly became powerful, then got the attention of the whole world, created his own guild.

You were the one who observed all of that process, observed his growth. Your heart warms, then quickly cools. That's when you realize.

The most important things in Jinwoo's life don't need you anymore.

Not because you're not important. It's because your role in the story has ended.

_______________

The first time he talked about her was after a meeting at the Association, when the two of you left the building together. The afternoon sunlight fell gently on your shoulders, and you - as usual - walked beside Jinwoo in silence.

Jinwoo suddenly spoke, his voice low, as if he was thinking about something far away. "She's different."

You turned around, frowning slightly. "Who?"

"Cha Hae-in."

You paused briefly before switching your voice to inquire "What exactly do you mean by difference?"

A relaxed smile appeared on Jinwoo's face as he shook his head while recalling something pleasant. "I don't typically trust hunches or gut feelings. But when I'm near her, the mana in my body is no longer chaotic. It's peaceful, as if - as if I can breathe."

You smiled. A smile so beautiful that even Jinwoo glanced at you. But you just looked forward, nodding, "It sounds like you found a place where your heart doesn't have to fight anymore."

Jinwoo didn't say anything. Maybe he thought you were misunderstanding.

As for you, you knew you were right.

Another time, after the two of them had just returned from a dungeon, it was raining lightly. The two of them took shelter under the awning of a small restaurant, their clothes still wet from the cold dew in the dungeon. Jinwoo wiped the raindrops from his forehead, then suddenly asked.

"Do you think someone who always fights and always kills is worthy of love?"

You were stunned, your heart filled with unease. "..Why do you ask?"

Jinwoo looked out at the rain, his eyes as deep as the night.

"Because I'm afraid. Hae-in once came to join Ahjin, she admitted that she liked me. I'm afraid that if Hae-in really liked me, she would suffer too much pain. I'm not an ordinary person. I live in blood and darkness. And she's too pure."

You were silent.

In that moment, you just wanted to hug Jinwoo, to tell him that you weren't afraid of his darkness, that you'd lived with him for so long and never found him hateful. But instead, you just smiled.

"If she chose you, then she have discovered qualities you never knew you possessed."

"So you think I'm worthy?"

You nodded slightly. "Yes. Very worthy."

Because otherwise, why would I have loved you for so many years?

________

Jinwoo released a deep sigh as both of you sat on a rooftop watching the Seoul skyline during a late evening.

"I often yearn to experience life as ordinary people do. No system, no monsters, no war. I could do something simple. Have someone waiting for me to come home. And if I'm lucky, maybe..."

He was silent. "...Maybe get married. Have a family."

You didn't reply.

You just clenched the hot cup of tea in your hand, your eyes silently looking down at the traffic below. Your heart silently broke once again - not because Jinwoo loved someone else, but because you realized you were never his choice in the first place.

Everything seemed to be going in the right direction.

Except for your heart.

"Do you think I'm suited to a normal life?" Jinwoo suddenly asked, his eyes following the clouds drifting by.

You looked up at him, smiling slightly. "Depends on your definition of 'normal'."

Jinwoo nodded slightly, then was silent for a long while.

Then, he turned to you, his gaze very gentle. As if he was thinking about something very beautiful, very gentle. "I was thinking about asking Hae-in out. You know, the government built a park at the gate where my father went missing. The only friend I could think of to join me at that place was her."

Your face showed a pleasant expression while your heart endured the pain of his words. 'What about me? Am I not your friend?' You didn't say anything.

He smiled, a rare smile, not of victory or power. But a smile that came from the desire to live, the desire to be happy. "I want to take her there. Simple. Walk, eat ice cream, play games."

You looked at him.Time appeared frozen at that instant. His gentle voice carried through the room without being either too high or too low yet every word he spoke left a deep impression.

You remembered the day Jinwoo was still an E-rank, awkward, scared, and silent. The one who used to sit huddled in the corner of the hospital. Now he had become a strong person.

You had been with him all that way.

And it seemed like at this moment, you had made a decision for yourself.

____________

"Unnie, do you really have to go?"

Jinah looked at you with sad eyes. Kyung-hye standing next to you also looked at you with pity.

More than anyone, they were the ones who understood your feelings for Jinwoo the most. More than anyone, they knew how much you had sacrificed for Jinwoo. To make the decision to leave, you must have torn your heart to pieces.

With trembling voice Kyung-hye held your hand before she spoke. "I'm sorry I can't help you."

You smiled as you shook your head. "I don't need anything. I am satisfied by his happiness alone. He's found happiness in his life. I think it's time for me to let go and truly live for myself."

Jinah hugged you, unable to hold back her tears. "Unnie, you can stay...you still have us."

You bit your lip, gently touching your head to Jinah's forehead. You just smiled. Gently. Quietly. Then promise. "Someday, I'll come back to see everyone."

It's a lie, a lie only you know.

They don't stop you. Because they understand, there are things that can't be kept - no matter how much love.

You left before Jinwoo returned. No message. No goodbye.

The flight took off.

You sat by the window, your hand on the system screen.

[Request: Erase all your memories related to the Solo Leveling storyline.] [Sub-request: Completely erase memories of Y/n from the memory systems of all individuals who have ever come into contact with you.] [Do you want to confirm?] [Yes/No]

You looked out the plane window, taking in the land of Korea one last time, all your memories since the day you came to this world playing back like a movie. A tear fell down your cheek. You smiled. "Yes"

[Processing...] [Success. From now on, you will not remember anything about the plot. We will not appear again. Wish you a peaceful life.]

Then you fell asleep.

______________________

At the park which used to be a high-level dungeon now served as a lively promenade, where children played while sunlight bathed everything in golden light.

The stone path guided Jinwoo and Hae-in through the park while the wind made the trees' branches dance and let fresh leaves fall from the branches. HHae-in softly held Jinwoo's hand as wind blew through her golden hair.

A girl sprinted by as her mother followed behind her with a pleasant expression. That laughter - unintentionally - struck Jinwoo's ears, like a strange yet painfully familiar bell.

He paused.

His head turned slightly as his gaze focused on an empty area in front of him. A fresh breeze brought forth the fragrances of new grass and damp earth together with another distinct smell. Something he couldn't name.

He automatically reached his right hand toward his chest.

There. His heart.

It was like something was quietly throbbing. Not clear, not intense, but persistent like a whisper in a dream. He frowned. It felt empty. Like a forgotten silence in a song he once knew.

"...What's wrong?" Hae-in approached him with soft words while squeezing his hand gently as she watched him with worry.

A friendly smile appeared on Jinwoo's face but his expression in his eyes remained blank. "I'm fine. Something important seems to be missing from my mind right now."

Hae-in tilted her head slightly, then smiled. "Then... when you remember, can you tell me?"

Jinwoo looked at her before gently squeezing her hand while smiling. He gave his word to share the information.

Jinwoo experienced a brief emotional twinge as he continued walking under the tree canopy.

There's something still missing. A name has been erased. A look, a laugh, a habit that was once so familiar, now only a pale image deep in his mind. And even though there are no more memories, his heart still carries a nameless emptiness.

No one can fill it. No one can replace it.

Farewell, Jinwoo, my love...

______________

Why oh why tell me why not me 😔

Why oh why we were mean to be...

#sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo #jinwoo #solo leveling #solo leveling x reader #sung jinwoo x you #sung jinwoo x y/n #jinwoo sung x reader #jinwoo sung

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hoshigray · 2 years ago

Text

Had the most random thought, but what if you caught Miguel by surprise and sneaked a kiss on the back of his neck when he's stressed out?

An: Don't mind me, just feeling soft for Miguel because he's corrupting my brain at the moment, lol. Also, wanted to write this to distract me from the fact Pleasurable Practice got smacked with a community label ffs. But, tysm for the love on that fic <33, and [MAYBE] I'll work on pt ii for next week! Thanks again, you lovelies, and enjoy!!

Edited Note: Also, here's an ATSV masterlist I made earlier for your convenience!!

Cw: Miguel x reader - fluff - stressed Miguel bc when is he not - you give him a kiss on the neck - pet names (amorcito/little love, mi alma/my soul; amor/my love) - just you and Miguel being adorbs and him being whipped hehe~

Wc: 902

"Aaaaaarrgh!!!"

You snap away from what you were doing to find where the noise came from. Not to your surprise, it's from your boyfriend — Miguel O'Hara, who's expressing his dismay by throwing another tray full of empty containers you got from the cafeteria.

The man is descending from his [godforsaken slow-ass] station, tapping his feet and huffing by the second. His brows are furrowed in anger, and he moves a hand to soothe his forehead with his fingers. When his post finally stops, he jumps down to sit on a chair and groans into his hands.

That was the third time this week. A villain was supposed to be captured and brought into the Spider Society to be sent back to their own universe; however, that was two days ago. And for some reason, this evil-doer has been hopping in and out of multiple universes. It's been a hassle for the other Spiders to grab hold of them; Lyla has to have eyes on them within every minute of every hour, and Miguel...Obviously, he would like to have this matter taken care of already.

You get up from where you're sitting and walk up behind Miguel, whose face is still covered by his hands with inaudible curses that you can tell are in Spanish. "You okay?"

The rise and fall of his broad shoulders entail a huge sigh seething out of his system. "No, mi amor." He frees his face only to rest his forehead with a hand propped by his leg. "This game of cat-and-mouse has been going on longer than necessary, got Spiders who're tired of the chase — I'm tired, yet there's more stuff piling up and—" He stops himself with another deep sigh, and you place your hands on his shoulders. "I just can't right now...."

All you can do is hum aimlessly while massaging his shoulders, his trapezius and deltoids tense with stress. You understand that a lot is going on for Miguel, giving him his space and letting him do what he does best: being a hero. But of course, being a superhero isn't all sunshine and rainbows, and you're bound to get hit with obstacles that'll hinder your progress. Annoyingly so, if you're a leader of an organization like your boyfriend.

Nevertheless, he's only one man, and you know he forgets this fact when he's too wrapped up in work. He's dedicated to protecting his peers, his home, and you. And although you appreciate the sentiment sincerely, you wish he'd remember to not go too hard on himself before he's burnt out.

You sigh through your nostrils, your hands kneading out any remnants of tension while Miguel indulges before storming back to work. That's when an idea hits you when your eyes land on the back ends of his hair, a smile creeping in slowly. Your hand brushes the lower tufts of his brown strands, and you lean down to press your soft lips on him after pulling his suit to expose his neck.

Immediately, Miguel goes rigid at the feeling of your lips on him. And his breath hitches when your hands wrap around him, pulling him closer to you as you lay your chin on top of his head (which you realize is a rare opportunity as he's taller than you).

"Mi lindo araña," You chuckle to yourself when you notice hints of red sneaking on the lobes of his ears. "The more you stress yourself, the more you look like a grouchy face."

"A grouchy face?" His tone holds slight confusion. "You've been hanging with Peter B. too much, amorcito." He shakes his head while you giggle, and you two sink into each other's presence for a little while, taking in the silence outside of the calming breaths Miguel takes. If he were to confess, it's as if almost all his fatigue has vanished into thin air when he's in your embrace. But he doesn't say anything — he doesn't have to. Because you already know.

You set your lips on his temple. "Feeling okay now?" His body vibrates from a tiny purr, and you remove yourself to stand up straight. "Alright then, I'm gonna go to the cafeteria to get something to share. Because you clearly need a snack. And while I'm gone, pick up that tray and those empty containers off the floor before Lyla has another reason to call you a 'grumpy man-child.'"

His face molds to a deep scowl from the mention of his pixelated peer's name-calling. "I am not a man-child."

You give him a look. "You kinda are."

"And what gives you that—"

"Muñeco," Miguel quickly refrains from arguing when you call him by his nickname, the name only you can use. "If you're not a man-child, why haven't you stood up and done what I asked yet?"

The man opens his mouth, yet no words dare leave. Reddish-brown eyes are honed in on your figure as you survey his reaction, and he exhales in defeat when he stands up from his chair. Your smile flourishes. "I'll be back," is what you say as you turn to exit his domain and head to the cafeteria.

Miguel watches you leave until you're out of his line of sight, unable to fight the twinge of his lips while he moves to pick up his mess like you instructed him to.

"Sólo tú puedes darme órdenes, mi alma."

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luvendiary · 2 months ago

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👁👁 I'm the anon that asked for a silent/non-talker reader fic with hiccup many many moons ago, but if you still write for him, could it be with a prompt where reader's still not much of a talker on some days but would like to still passionately communicate, therefore inventing a sort of sign language system with hiccup under gothi's supervision, and maybe put in a bit about how stoick knows of their relationship (i visited this hole of fondness in my brain again, forgive me)

a/n: dearest anon. I am so sorry for gettin back to you so late. I haven't been writing much lately, but your request helped me sort of rekindle my love for it. I've been spending way to much time on my phone instead of doing the things I like. I'll try to put out more writing. i'm sorry if the ending is a bit janky, im a little out of practice. also, i don't know much about asl, so i apologize for any mistakes. thank you for your request!

Sweetest of Melodies (pt. 2)

pt. 1

The sound of soft humming flooded the room. You were so focused on the soft lulling sound that came from your throat that you were unaware that the place had gone quiet. When you did, however, you found that all eyes were on you, making you retract your head into your shoulders as the signs of embarrassment appeared on your face. You silently reached out for Hiccup’s hand in order to seek some sort of comfort.

‘Sorry’, you wanted to say, but your words failed you at the moment. You had come a long way since allowing yourself to speak more freely in front of the riders. That didn’t mean that you were still totally comfortable with letting yourself be heard. Instead, you liked being able to hear yourself better; that’s what most of your words were meant for anyway. For you to hear them.

“You should sing more often,” Astrid said as if it was no big deal. You appreciated her nonchalant attitude, it made you feel less judged. You knew the riders didn’t have bad intentions, it was probably still a little strange to hear you make a sound, which prompted their current reaction. But years of overthinking made you jump to the worst possible scenario, even if you knew it wasn’t true.

In return you offered her a shy smile. Hiccup sensed your discomfort and did his best to steer the conversation away from you whilst giving your hand a small squeeze.

Later that night it occurred to him that whilst you were somewhat comfortable speaking to him, it was still a big step for you to accommodate to this while having been mute for years.

He was visibly stressed as he realized that some of your relationship’s problems might stem from that. You weren’t used to communicating with anyone. Anyone besides Gothi.

That’s how Hiccup found himself knocking at your front door one early morning. Gothi opened the door, as he knew she would and assuming that he was looking for you (like he often did), she quickly signaled to him that you had gone to collect some items you had run out of.

“Actually. I’m here to see you”, he explained with a nervous smile.

Gothi seemed surprised for a brief moment before inviting him inside.

Awkwardly, Hiccup made his way inside and found a stool to sit on. He watches as Gothi -much like you did whenever he came to visit- occupied herself with making tea.

Once the tea was on the table, and she had poured a cup for him as well as one for herself, she stared at him patiently.

He took that as his sign to talk, and set the cup down after having had a sip. “I need your help,” he stated rather obviously.

The small woman raised her eyebrow before signing your name in the form of a question.

“Yes,” Hiccup confirmed. “I just-” he sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s come so far with speaking out more, and she’s doing great, but…I’ve just now realized that while she’s making all this effort, I don’t seem to be doing anything to understand her better.”

Gothi’s gaze softened.

“She tries so hard, all the time; to understand me, and help me understand her, I just feel as if it’s about time I did the same for her.”

Silence settled between them as Gothi took another sip of her tea before hopping off the stool she was sitting on and staggering off to one of her many shelves.

“I guess, I was wondering if you could help me. Understand her better, I mean-”

Not a second later a small book was slammed on the table. Hiccup jumped slightly, marveling at the frail woman’s strength.

Upon further inspection he realized it was not a book but rather a journal. Littered with drawings of different hand signs and gestures and their respective meanings. Dust covered its pages, indicating how long it had been since someone opened it last.

Hiccup looked up at Gothi with admiration. “You made this?”

The woman shook her head and flicked back to the first page where your name had been scribbled down neatly.

He chuckled as he stared down at the journal, “this is amazing.”

She nodded proudly. She had been the one to help you come up with this communication method, it had been your idea of course- but as the both of you developed it it made your bond grow stronger. She considered it to be hers as much as yours.

Hiccup carefully tucked the journal away and stood up. Enthusiastically, he gave Gothi a quick kiss on the cheek and thanked her before bolting out of the house.

‘Good luck’, she signed as she watched the young man ride away on his dragon.

Hiccup was determined. His presence amongst the dragonriders had become sparse. When he wasn’t training or helping out in the forge, he was most likely practicing his signing skills. Even then, work seemed to come second to his newfound hobby.

He found himself practicing with Toothless, as he signed him orders receiving a confused tilt of the dragon’s head in return. He stole moments in the forge, his hands mimicking the signs in between hammering metal; his usual rambling also appeared to be accompanied by matching signs. Even during dragon races, he would move his fingers in the air absentmindedly, his mind working through the motions while Astrid gave him odd glances.

You, on the other hand, had no idea what was going on. His absence was more palpable as the days went on. He still greeted you, still sent you small smiles and the occasional kiss when you crossed paths, but your moments together felt shorter. Less frequent. He always had somewhere to rush off to. Places to go, people to see, things he needed to do.

At first, you didn’t think much of it—Hiccup was the chief’s son, after all. He had responsibilities.

But as the days stretched into weeks, your nervousness grew.

Had you done something wrong? Was he getting tired of having to put up with you? Maybe it was too much effort, too exhausting. Maybe he had realized that words were easier. Someone else would be easier…

The thought made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

You tried to push the thought away, but doubt seemed to creep into every corner of your mind.

You found yourself slipping into old habits. Speaking less often and keeping to yourself. You had stopped going to the forge to keep Hiccup company while he did his work.

Maybe he needed space.

Astrid had taken notice of this change, trying her best to include you in whatever plan the dragon riders were currently in the midst of. Whether it was a trip to a nearby island or just having lunch together near the cliffside.

One afternoon as you took residence in the Great Hall while grinding herbs, you felt a presence approach you. Hiccup strode in, and you quickly averted your gaze as you focused on the task at hand.

“Where have you been?” he asked lightheartedly as his arms snaked around your waist and he pulled you closer.

You smiled nervously and just shrugged your shoulders.

“My dad's been asking for you. You don’t come by the forge anymore,” he continued as he nestled his head on your shoulder, pressing your back to him.

“Just busy,” you replied curtly.

He noticed how your hands seemed to accompany your words now. One of them laid flat, with your palm looking downwards whilst the other stood vertically and moved side to side in a repetitive motion.

‘Busy’.

He hadn’t noticed that before. But now that he thought about it, your hands were always moving. You had been talking to yourself all along, in silence.

“I need to tell you something,” he said then, as he took a step back. His arms leaving your waist. You immediately missed the contact.

Your mind immediately jumped to the worst conclusion.

Hiccup's hands flexed and unflexed at his sides and his shoulders did that shaky thing they did whenever he had a lot on his mind.

‘Leaving,’ you signed to yourself as you placed down the pestle.

His face turned into that of confusion, as his right hand mimicked what yours had just done. ‘Leave?’

“What? No,” he mumbled, his eyebrows furrowed. ‘I miss you’

Your mind had been too slow to realize what was happening. “What?”

‘I miss you’ he signed again. This time followed by an ‘i love you’.

Your breath caught in your throat as a gasp escaped your lips.

His movements were slightly jumbled, not as smooth as yours or Gothi’s were. But the message was there clear as day. He was talking to her, with no words.

You stared at him for a long moment before finally reaching out, your fingers trembling as they brushed against his.

“I miss you too,” you replied. “So much.”

Hiccup grabbed your hand and pulled you in before sweeping you off your feet for a kiss.

“What did you mean ‘leave’?” he asked with a slight chuckle as he pressed a tender kiss to your neck.

Your face flushed, immediately embarrassed for your self-deprecating thoughts. You tried to hide your face in the crook of his neck but he moved his head to search for your eyes.

“Don’t tell me you thought I wanted to leave you,” he said, though the statement came out more as a question.

“I’m sorry!” you said as you buried your head in his chest. “You just had been spending less time with me, and I thought you were getting tired of having to deal with me.”

Hiccup pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “Hey, don’t say that,” he whispered. “I could never get tired of you. I just—I wanted to learn. I wanted to understand you the way you understand me.”

You smiled up at him, adoration clear on your face. You stepped back and raised your hand slightly.

‘I love you too’.

#x reader #how to train your dragon #httyd #hiccup #hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #hiccup haddock x reader

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yurishots · 10 months ago

Text

CAFE AU ━ o. miya

GENRE ━ fluff + the smallest amount of angst

WC ━ 770

Ever since Osamu has aged and settled into his new life as a shop and home owner, it seems like couples have been miraculously popping up everywhere he looks. He would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a bit of loneliness seeing couples in booths sharing the food he made. Him being a romantic never helped either—the fantasy of seeing his s/o after a long day at Onigiri Miya plagued his mind constantly, as well as the domestic feeling of coming home knowing that someone will be there waiting for him.

The brunette began to put himself out there more, but not like his blonde counterpart. It was more subtle; making more conversation with his patrons and posting a little more on instagram. He became a fanatic for a short while—constantly stalking his notifications and dm requests even though he knew there would be nothing new. He contemplated giving up on the whole romance act, maybe it's a luxury only certain people can have.

Sighing for the fifth time this morning, Osamu shoves his phone into his back pocket. A past friend of his posted some pictures from his wedding. “Must be nice,” he mumbles under his breath. After washing his hands, he prepares to head to the back before hearing a delicate voice break the silence of his early morning shift.

“Hi, can I get a coffee?” Osamu froze as he heard the voice of this customer, he’s never heard anything like it. He looks up to see a smile adorning your face as you wait for him to confirm the order. The shop owner hopes he doesn’t look stupid as he quickly wipes his hands on his apron and clears his throat.

Osamu quirked up his brow in curiosity,”just a coffee?” The request was quite vague, there’s a million coffees in the world, he’s not a mind reader after all.

“What kind? we carry a bunch of flavors y’know!” He watched as an amused expression took over your face as you listened to him.

“Well, I actually don’t know since your menu up there is quite empty.” Osamu looked up at the digital menu screen above him to realize that it is indeed—blank. a wave of embarrassment washes over him as he grabs the remote off the counter behind him and presses the on button. The menu soon lit up with a bunch of options for you to continue your less detailed coffee order from earlier.

“I'm really sorry about that,” his face feels flushed from the embarrassment of the moment and because of the sound of your laughter entering his ears.

“It's fine, I'll take an espresso.” Osamu nodded as he entered your order into the system in front of him. “And your name?” You looked up quickly with a small ‘hm?’ and gave him your name, “Y/n L/n.” The tapping noise resumed as he typed in your name, smiling softly at the fact he knows you a little bit more. As you leave the counter to find a seat, the shop begins to fill up slowly as people come in for breakfast.

Usually Osamu calls out his customer’s names for them to grab their items, but he felt as if you deserved the delivery. He calms his nerves before walking over to your table by the window, “Here you go Y/n,” he says softly as he hands you your mug, telling you to be careful because it's hot. He slowly retreats back to his spot behind the counter to make the orders since his coworker has shown up to take them. Watching you out of the corner of his eye, he smiles seeing that you’re enjoying your drink as you gaze out the window. “Osamu!” His co worker snapped to get his attention, the amount of drinks he had to prepare had piled up. Sending her an apologetic look, he got back to work.

After making and sending off the last coffee, he looked over to where you were sitting to see an empty table with a lonely mug. Osamu sucked his teeth, he planned on asking you if you enjoyed it. As he walked over to the table to clean it, he noticed a slip of paper poking out from under the mug. He grabbed it and read its contents.

“Y/n L/n: XXX-XXX-XXXX. here’s my number, I’d like to talk to you some more. P.S: I saw you staring at me ;p.”

Smiling to himself, he pocketed the note and cleaned up the previously occupied table. Maybe this romance thing isn’t so hard after all.

#haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #osamu miya #hq timeskip #haikyuu fanfiction #osamu x reader #cafe au #can you tell he is my fav #osamu miya x reader #haikyuu x y/n #inarizaki x reader #osamu imagine #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu angst

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blackgirlsloveburrow · 4 months ago

Text

NSFW 18+

joe burrow x uc student!reader has been on my mind so this is for my college babes

growing up in ohio, you never really would expect to be in a situation like this.

ohio has a few perks to it, but overall is mostly corn, dingy neighborhoods, and like three big cities.

so how did the top nfl quarterback end up in your bed?

it was kind of hard to look back on as your hangover hurt the harder you tried to think. at least he looked peaceful sleeping next to your hello kitty squishmallow.

shit.

"oh god this is so embarassing," you think out loud. all you remember is going to a dinky bar with your friends after lowkey bombing a history test and then...

oh. now you remember.

the kelces were in town last night. they were of course university of cincinnati alums, and joe burrow was along for their reunion tour. they did a whole interview in fifth third arena, that you got to miss of course because you were crying in your pillow over american history. afterwards they decided to visit the small college bar for the nostalgia, and that's where you saw him and he saw you.

joe was so hot.

everyone was freaking out, you as well on the inside, but you decided to order another vodka cran instead of gathering around them like the rest of the bar was. it was your third drink of the night, so you were definitely feeling it to say the least.

after a while the hype started to die down, and you felt a towering body right next to yours. you looked over and see:

him.

"hey. i'm joe," he said with an awkward smile on his face, sticking out his hand.

you don't feel super nervous, as you had enough liquid courage in your system to form a sentence.

"hi i'm y/n and i definitely know who you are," you laughed and reciprocated his handshake. your friends were behind you freaking out. you cringed a bit.

"i see you're with your friends, but i was wondering if you'd want to come with me to a more private bar? i have a driver out back and i can meet you out there so we don't cause a scene or anything" he said.

okay you definitely drank too much because now you must be hearing things.

"sure! i mean yes haha," you replied, trying to control your excitement.

"cool i'll see you out there y/n".

he walked away. your friends came from behind you, pestering you for the details of you and joe's interaction.

"he just asked how i was doing guys that's all. i do think i am going to head out though. i have to wake up early tomorrow," you told them. it was a pretty solid lie as they just pouted and said their goodbyes.

you made your way through the crowd towards the back door of the bar. someone, probably security, was at the back door and asked for your name. you gave it to them and you walked outside. there were two sleek black cars. one for joe, and one for the kelces. the kelces were still inside, reveling in their hometown glory, so you guessed it would be just you and joe.

the driver opened the door for you and you slid inside. your beat up honda had nothing on this vehicle. you and joe both said hey and he offered you a drink. and who are you to say no to a free drink?

you took it and the driver started going towards your destination. joe asked you questions about yourself and what brought you to the bar that night. you give him details and also embarrassingly told him you flunked a history test.

he laughed, talking about his college experiences and himself as well.

you finished your drink as you both arrived at the bar.

it was really nice. definitely a bar they don't let just anyone go into. luckily you were wearing a slightly cute dress.

joe took your hand as you exited the car. your face got hot at the gesture (or maybe it was the alcohol) and he walked you inside.

he led you to the bar where you guys both ordered some drinks and he started a tab. you guys talked for a while, getting closer and closer with each drink.

"you know i think football is kinda boring," you said without thinking, the alcohol taking over your conversation skills.

"you just have to get to know it better, like how i'm getting to know you better," he replied speaking closely to you.

"you should come to one of my games sometimes," he added.

"i would love to! but only if i can get a ja'marr chase jersey," you joked to him.

"totally not funny, you'd look way better with my name and number on your back," he responded defensively.

before you could respond you heard one of your favorite songs to dance too.

"oh my god! i love this song. come dance with me," you said as you pulled him to the dance floor.

you started swaying your hips to the rhythm of the song with him behind you. he matched your rhythm, putting his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to his hard on. you felt it on your lower back, surprised, and starting to get turned on.

the song finished and you turn around. he grabbed your neck and kissed you. you grabbed the back of his hair and stuck your tongue in his mouth. he kissed you like you were giving him oxygen to breathe.

this led you two out of the club towards the black vehicle, not being able to keep your hands off of each other. you requested to go to your apartment by your college since it's close. and joe just wanting to be inside of you didn't care to object.

you and joe continue to make out in the car. you are rubbing his hard on while he is making hickeys on your neck and grabbing your boobs.

you guys finally got to your apartment, thanked the driver (and probably traumatized him as well), and made your way inside.

you and him rushed to the bedroom, where you and joe immediately started to strip.

joe laid you on the bed where he started to eat you out.

"oh f-fuck joe," you moaned. he sucked your clit, gripping your thighs so that you wouldn't get away from him.

you grabbed his hair, pushing him more into you, which made him grunt in response. he continued pleasuring you for a while.

"i-i'm gonna cum," you whined. this made him get up, kiss you, and flip you over.

"fuck baby you are so wet for me. i wanted to cum just from eating you out," he replied, breathing heavily.

he pulled your ass up into the air, his cock lining up with your hole.

"i want you to cum with me baby," he moans, sticking his girth slowly in your cunt.

oh my god he was so big.

it felt like he was splitting you open in the best way possible. he immediately was hitting your g-spot, having you moan so loud your whole building could probably hear.

he was moaning too, and was gripping your ass so hard as he pulled you into him with deep, hard strokes.

"fuck your little pussy is so perfect baby, he moaned loudly.

you were clawing at your bed sheets, loving how vocal he was too.

"oh daddy i'm gonna cum, oh my god!" you scream. he pulled out, flipping you over again, and reentered you.

"i wanna see your face when you cum for me," he huffs. he's holding your thighs up, fucking you deeper and harder than before. your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you released. he soon followed releasing deep inside of you.

he kissed you. you reciprocated but were quick to fall into a deep sleep, and so was he.

it was an eventful night.

so now that you remember...

you put on an oversized tee and went into the kitchen to make some breakfast. you are pretty much in your own world, thinking about last nights events, until you hear joe walking down the hallway. he has his clothes on. he looks at you sheepishly.

"hey, so i really had a good time last night," he said to you.

"so did i," you replied smiling.

"i hate to do this but i kinda have to go. my manager called and i'm kind of late to a meeting," he says a little embarrassed.

you're face looks disappointed.

"but-," he adds. "here's my number. please call me. i really want to see you again and have you in my jersey in the stands like i talked about last night".

"i would love that," you reply, mood brightening already.

he moves into kiss you passionately, and then leaves.

how are you just supposed to go back to school monday now?

#cincinnati bengals #joe burrow #nfl #bengals #jb9

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moody-alcoholic · 4 months ago

Text

Break in

John Price x reader. WC: 1.9k. CW: break in, canon typical violence.

_____

You hate the winter, it gets dark too quickly. The temperature drops and you hate the cold. The worst thing about winter though is how much it makes you miss your husband. Everyone at work talks about getting ready to spend time with their families, or family and friends coming to visit them. You don’t even know if you’ll see John over the Christmas period.

Last year he left on boxing day, the year before that he was gone for over a week until the 2nd of January. He missed Christmas and new years. You thought you would be used to it by now, him being away but it doesn’t seem to be getting any easier. At least this time he’s in London, he’s on a base most of the time. He keeps telling you if he’s lucky he’ll be there until way after the new year.

That means he comes home at the end of each day, you get to spend time with him and do things you’ve not been able to do in previous years like go shopping for christmas gifts. It doesn’t matter though, it shouldn’t matter, it’s just one day of the year. You could just do a delayed christmas again, it never feels the same though.

You hitch your bag over your shoulder as you walk through the gate to your townhouse. It’s way later than you would normally get home but the house is still dark so clearly John isn’t back yet either. You’re carrying shopping bags in each hand putting one down so you can fish in your pocket for the house key. You close the gate behind you and make it up to the front door.

Your body freezes as you reach out for the lock. Your breathing stops, eyes going wide. Goosebumps rise over your skin.

The door has been kicked in, you can see the damage on the wood where they’ve used a tool to pry it open.

The shopping bag you’ve got round your wrist is pulling your hand down. You don’t know what to do, you should call the police. No, you should call John, maybe he broke in, forgot his keys? But then why didn’t he call you. There’s a pretty sophisticated security system John installed when you first bought the place. You would have got a security notification if it was activated.

You drop the bags on the floor backing up down the steps and reaching into your pocket for your phone. Your hands shake as you walk back down the path until you hit the gate. It takes you two attempts to click John's name before you finally bring the phone up to your ear. He won’t pick up the first time, you let it ring out for a few seconds then call him right back. Then he’ll know it’s important.

“Hey, love. Give me a second.” He says before there’s silence on the like, it feels like the silence is lasting minutes not seconds. You feel a lump rising in your throat, a breath hitches in your throat. You feel silent tears run down your face as you look into the house windows for movement.

“Sorry love. I know I’m late-”

“John, there's someone in the house.” You say before he can finish his sentence. You don’t have time, your heart picks up in your chest.

“What do you mean?” He asks, the tone of his voice is darker.

“I came home and the door was kicked in.” This time your words come out with a sob. You feel sick.

“Okay, I'm on my way.” You hear shuffling, the sound of keys. You don’t know what to do, panic rises in you.

“Should I call the police?” You ask.

“No. I’m coming okay, 10 minutes, I'll be there I promise.” You hear him snap his fingers. “Don’t go in the house okay. Stay outside.” You hear a car door close, then another.

“Okay,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I’ll be there soon.” He says then hangs up. You’re still looking in the house for movement, you don’t see anything, the rooms dark. You shiver as a cold breeze moves in, it could snow soon, you don’t want to be outside when it snows.

…

John turns the normally 15 minute drive into less than ten, even down the congested London roads he breaks several traffic laws to get home. He’ll deal with the fines later, but the last thing he needs is to get pulled over now.

“What if-” “Don’t even fucking say it.” He snaps at Ghost sitting next to him. His hands grip the steering wheel as he turns down the street towards his house. The place is quiet, it’s almost 9pm. He parks up pulling in so fast he almost hits another car. He can see you, stood on the pavement outside the house, your face red with tears, your arms wrapped around your chest.

They both Jump out of the car and John makes a bee line towards you. His hands come up to cup your face.

“You’re okay, go wait in the car.” he says brushing your tears away with his thumbs. You nod letting out another sob, he watches as you head over to the car getting in the back.

“Take the top floor, I’ll sweep the ground.” He says to Ghost as he walks through the gate towards the house. John takes the lead removing the sidearm from its holster bringing it into his hands. He toes open the door, the house is dark, there’s no sound, they could be gone already.

Ghost is silent on his feet moving up the stairs as John continues down the corridor to the kitchen. He brings the weapon up to his eyeline as he adjusts to the darkness. They have an advantage here, they know the layout of the house better than the intruders, hopefully.

Ghost finds the first guy on the top floor. He’ll be working his way down now. As soon as John is done he will work his way up. The back door was still locked but it could have been locked from the inside without a key. There’s no mess, the place hasn’t been ransacked. They weren't looking for valuables.

The ground floor is clear as John works his way up to the first floor. He heads straight for his home office, maybe they were looking for a different type of valuable.

John finds the second guy in the spare bedroom. Tying him up and throwing him in a closet with tape over his mouth. No need to shed blood in his home, besides gives him something to do tonight other than paperwork.

He meets up with Ghost outside his office pushing the door open together. The window is wide open with the whole place being ransacked. Ghost walks into the room, looking down out the window. John sighs, they’ve missed one and he has no idea what they could have been looking for. Ghost turns to look at him, putting his pistol away. John already knows what he wants to say.

“Don’t fucking say it.” He sighs putting his own pistol away

…

You’re sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea in your hands. John said the place was clear that they didn’t find anyone. Maybe they got spooked when you came home, heard you and ran. That's what you tell yourself to calm your nerves. John walks into the room, he comes over to the sofa and sits down next to you.

His arm goes round your back and you lean into him.

“You did great.” He says rubbing your thigh with his other hand. You don’t know what to say. Someone broke into your house, even with all the security measures John put in place someone got past them and invaded your home.

You’re not even thirsty but you bring the hot tea up to your lips anyway taking a sip letting it burn your throat.

“What if you weren’t here?” You say, your voice is quiet, your head dipped down as more tears come. The panic and adrenaline gone your mind is filled with what ifs.

“Don’t worry about that, I have things in place.” His hand comes up to your chin pulling your face up to look at him as you put the tea back in your lap. “You’re safe here, I promise.”

You don’t believe him, it’s going to be a while before you’re going to feel safe in your own home. Even though whoever was here was gone before John got home, they were still here. It could have been so much worse.

You lean forward putting the cup of tea on the coffee table, it just tastes bitter anyway. His hand rubs your back almost like he’s trying to rub the tension out your muscles. You close your eyes his arms wrap around you as he leans back into the sofa.

“You’re safe I promise. I would never ever let anything happen to you.” He kisses the top of your head. You let out a long breath, that you believe but it’s not always that simple.

“Will you stay? Please don’t leave, at least not for tonight.”

“I will, I’m going to be here with you.” You turn in his arms to look up at him, his deep blue eyes blinking down at you. He leans down pressing his lips to yours. You let yourself sink into the fermilia kiss, his tongue brushing yours as his hands run up and down your body. This is where you feel safe, in his arms, with his touch.

The knock on the door pulls you out of the kiss, he turns to look.

“Let me go chat with him then we’ll go to bed okay?” He says his thumb coming to brush the tears escaping your eyes. You nod sitting back up straight.

He’s not gone for long, coming back in and offering you his hand. You take it and he guides you up to bed, his hands don’t leave you, running up and down your body as you make it to the room. He helps you change, pressing kisses round your neck and shoulders, his fingers brushing hair out your eyes and tears when they fall.

Eventually you crawl into bed together, he rolls over to turn his bedside light off, the only light left on in the room.

“Leave it on.” You say, you’re not sure why, you just don’t want to be in the dark.

“Okay, whatever you need love.” He says pulling your back against his chest and wrapping his arms around you. You close your eyes, listening to the sound of his breathing in your ears.

“I will always be here. Even when it feels like I’m hundreds of miles away I will always be here for you.” He says as he kisses your cheek. You smile at his words, even if you’re doubtful, it’s what you need to hear.

“I love you.” You say as he squeezes you tighter.

“I love you too. You’re safe, you always will be, I promise.” His hand moves down to your waist pulling you against him further. “Get some sleep, I'll be here with you. I’m not leaving your side.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, I’ll protect you, forever. You’re safe, just get some rest.” He nuzzles his face into your neck. You try to stay awake, fighting the sleepiness that comes over you as he runs his hands over you. You can feel his heartbeat, his warm breath in your ear.

At least you’re not outside in the cold, you’re warm and safe in his arms. Strangers broke into your home but you know it won’t happen again because John won’t let it happen again.

____ It was supposed to be short but I don't know when to stop.

#call of duty #cod #john price #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #john price cod #john price x reader #captain john price

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hotvintagepoll · 4 months ago

Note

hello I love you happy anniversary!!! and I would love some hot people action for Christmas if you’re so inclined 👀

Cool! Let's do a silly mini tournament just for Christmas.

WHO IS THE HOTTEST VINTAGE MOVIE COUPLE?

This contest is focused on ONSCREEN HOT COUPLES who, while maybe not romantically involved in real life, appeared frequently together as a romantic team onscreen.

TO BE COUNTED IN THE BRACKET, your submission must:

be a pair of hotties working in movies before 1970

both hotties must be movie stars, in the sense of appearing in (a) starring roles in (b) major feature films portraying a (c) romantic couple while (d) being very hot and charismatic. I'm looking for hotties on equal footing, not Queen Iconic Majoress and her lover Blorbo "never heard of him" Peckins, but I'll use my own judgement if it's unclear.

(3) the couple must appear ONSCREEN TOGETHER as a ROMANTIC COUPLE in AT LEAST TWO MOVIES. i would love to accept one-off pairings but then the tournament would be too big.

Again: your HOT AND VINTAGE COUPLE must be GLAMOROUS HOTTIES who were showcased ONSCREEN MORE THAN ONCE from a time in the movie industry anytime before 1970. This tournament is open to INTERNATIONAL HOTTIES, as long as they fall before the 1970 cutoff!

Also, because the classic Hollywood studio system did not allow for obvious same sex romantic couples, I'm willing to be flexible on defining a romantic couple if I think it would give Louis B. Mayer a heart attack. If you can convince me you shipped them and they could be viewed as an iconic onscreen couple, I'll let them in.

To submit, please include the names of your hotties, two or more movie titles starring them, and a short description of why they are the hottest. You can also include a link to a picture of them together if you don't want to rely on me to find a good one, and video footage proving their chemistry is always approved of.

I am throwing together this tournament extremely quickly so please send your hot couple to my asks asap. I will fill in the gaps where I can and will self-submit couples if I have to, but please don't rely on me—submit your favorite hotties so I don't forget anyone.

I'll look at submissions LATER TONIGHT and start the tournament TOMORROW in time for CHRISTMAS EVE.

[here is my ask box for submitting hot vintage couples]

#ohhh this is going to be so so so so so so fast #hotvintagepoll #tumblr polls #tumblr tournament #tournament poll

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misshugs · 1 year ago

Text

Desperate || snc

[req by @venusisaligned ] Another investigation, another scary night... well, maybe not so scary after all. They just can't seem to stop teasing you.

contains: SMUT +18, oral (m&w), cursing, pet names and all the good stuff

word count: 2.5k

[u n e d i t e d]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

"So this is the place?" You ask, looking at the Victorian-Styled house right infront of you. "Doesn't look half bad for like a 500 year old house."

"It looks great, right?" Sam smiled at you, opening up the door to the place. "Tour guide already told me where the key was so we can have a look before they get here."

"So we're having the place to ourselves for a couple of minutes?" Colby asked, walking inside after you.

"Yep, what do you guys wanna do?" Sam asked, closing the door.

"Well, we can do a lot of things in just a few minutes." Colby smirked while looking at you, making you chuckle.

"Ouf, don't threaten me with a good time." You answered to his obvious question.

"I never said anything, you dirty mind filled in the blanks."

"And how did you know I was thinking about that?" You raised a brow, leading him to think about it.

"Touché. You got me there." He laughed. "But hey. It really is an option. Just sayin'."

"You're hearing this guy right now?" You look at Sam while pointing at Colby, making them both smile.

"I mean, he does have a point..." Sam crept just a slight bit closer to you, making your heart skip a beat for a second, his intentions unsure, yet clear.

"Ah, you see? I'm not the only one." Colby proudly spoke up, making you roll your eyes.

"Oh, shut up."

"Make me." He quickly responded, gaining a giddy smile from him.

"I'll make you shut up alright." You said, your tone quickly shifting to a more flirtatious one, turning a switch on their system.

As you were slowly walking closer to Colby, Sam getting ready to join quickly after, a sound made you stop in the midst of cupping Colby's face on your hands and his hands quickly finding their way to your waist.

A knock.

"Hello?" Someone from outside asked. The tourguide.

You pouted, sighing as you separated from Colby's embrace. "Way to ruin the mood. Thought we had more time." You whispered, looking at Sam who was clearly bit annoyed by the timing.

"I did say minutes. Sorry." He apologized while quickly walking towards the door.

It gave Colby some time to grab your wrist and hold you closer, quickly giving you a peck on the lips. "Might be leaving me hanging now, but this isn't over." He whispered in your ear.

"Oh, I know." You smirked, walking towards the newly arrived people.

The tour wasn't long. The house had quite a few rooms, but most of them weren't really as interesting as the two main ones, where most of the activity was.

You were hugging yourself while listening to the guide talk about the story of the place and the people that have misteriously died.

"It is said that she killed herself, but there are speculations that say she was killed in her room while she was sleeping. Nothing quite confirmed, though. Since every time someone tries to talk to her she seems to avoid the topic."

"But she's able to answer any other question?" Colby asked the guide, gaining his attention for the meantime.

Leading him to not see Sam's hand slowly caressing your lower back, putting his hand underneath your shirt without anybody noticing.

You didn't respond to his touch to let him play it off, but your heart was palpitating at a higher rate the moment you felt his touch on your skin. You gulped, barely listening to the story as you kept on dozing off due to your attention being kept on... other things.

Although your vision was kept on Colby and the guide, your mind was vividly thinking, and feeling, Sam's touch. How he slowly descended his fingers to the waistband of your panties, softly playing with them before you could feel his hands getting deeper into your pants.

His hand holding onto one of your soft cheeks, squeezing them, making you sigh at the feeling. You looked up at him slightly. He seemed concentrated in the story, unlike you. If it weren't for the fact that you could no longer think straight due to your sex quickly heating up, you'd think he was just extremely curious about the story.

It would've been the case for anyone else looking at him.

Before his fingers could descend closer to where you needed him to be, he pulled away. Putting his hand on your shoulder, he answered a question the guide had asked him.

Looking at him, you almost wanted to whine about losing his touch, but you couldn't. There were others around, you couldn't.

And that's what made it worse. Or better. You could feel the adrenaline, your heat quickly turning sticky and getting caught on your underwear due to the sudden dampness.

Quickly, the questions were over and so was the tour.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

It was almost 12 in the morning, you guys were back from a lunch break whilst waiting for it to get late. The house in the daylight didn't seem too scary. In fact, it actually seemed quite vivid and beautiful.

But you couldn't say the same about it at nighttime. It was frightening, it had a different vibe to it that you just couldn't put your finger on.

Almost as if it were alive, but not in a good way like before. It felt as if it was desperately trying to pull you in, only for you to never walk back out.

Your easy going nature almost jumped out of the window when you walked inside. It felt cold, dead.

How ironic.

"Wow, it really does feel different at night." You said, remembering some of the few words you could remember the guide telling you about. This was... normal.

"It really does... it makes it spookier." Sam smirked. "Hopefully we get some good activity tonight." He gave you a quick glimpse before walking around.

As they began recording and walking around with you, your instinct cracked through and you held onto Colby's arm for some feeling of protection, which he didn't argue about.

"Alright, I think it's time to get the equipment, I'll be right back." Sam gestured to the outside, walking away.

Colby, on the other hand, didn't waste a second to get his hands on you. Quickly pinning you towards a wall, his lips interlocked with yours. A slow, wet and messy kiss.

His leg finding its way in the middle of yours, inducing pressure on your heat, letting out a moan that was drowned by the makeout session.

A hand slowly descended towards your hip, his thumb making circles around the slit where your skin was visible. When the both of you pulled away from the kiss, he didn't waste any time and slid his hand inside your pants and right in between your legs, touching your clothed cunt and making you whine in response.

"Such a tease you are. You're already wet for me, for us." He whispered in your ear, making circles on your clit. You panted at the feeling, your legs almost giving up.

"Colby..." You sighed.

"Desperate already? I can feel it." He kissed your burning cheek, giving you even more pressure with a mere finger.

If this is how one of his fingers made you feel, imagine everything else.

"Alright," You could hear Sam coming back, which made Colby smirk and pull away from you, making you whine at the sudden loss of touch. "Here's everything."

"Then let us begin, brother." Colby said, walking away from you. Sighing, you followed close behind.

It was absurd, you could simply fuck right there without an issue, but they knew you liked this. They knew you loved to be teased, to be on the edge at all times.

And they were right, you fucking loved it.

And it went like that for the whole night. Not even when the both of them were in the room you were... 'safe'. One of them was always closer to you than the other, therefore, more chances of him to touch you softly without the other noticing.

Or, at least, that's what you though. Both of them knew what they were doing alright, but they were acting as oblivious as possible to make it more entertaining.

It was going to be a bit complicated to edit out, though.

Whenever they started using some sort of method to communicate, they started to get touchy with you in the most discrete way possible.

Even whilst asking questions while doing the estes method. Somehow, they always seemed to find a way of holding you closer, getting more intimate without the camera on strict view of you.

A whole hour of teasing passed and you just couldn't handle it anymore. When Sam walked out of one of the main rooms, you held onto Colby's hand and got him closer to you, kissing him once again like before.

He smiled in the middle of the kiss, holding you by the hips while you cupped his face. Stepping away from the kiss, he chuckled.

"Babe, we need to keep going."

"Oh, fuck the investigation. I can't hold it anymore Colby, please." You whined, desperation on your words. "I need you."

He couldn't help but smile brighter. "You don't know how much I've been waiting for you to say that." He whispered before holding you up to walk you towards the bed.

He hurriedly got to taking off your shirt, trying not to separate his lips from you as much as he could. Kissing your neck whilst taking off your bralet, you tried to take off his shirt, successfully throwing it away.

Going back to your lips, his rough kisses were as desperate as you were. You grabbed the back of his neck, intensifying it and playing with his hair. You could feel his hands on your waistband, quickly pulling down your pants and leaving you with the last piece of clothing that was covering your cunt.

Before he could even remove it, you heard a noise, a knock. The both of you looked at the door, at Sam. He was with his hands crossed across his chest and his body resting on the door.

"So we're finally doing it?" He raised a brow and walked in looking at the both of you.

"Finally?" You panted, still with a shaky breath and looking at him confused.

"Yeah, well, when I said 'activity' I didn't just mean paranormal. We're not that oblivious as to what both of us were doing all this time, sweetheart." He responded, holding onto your cheek and kissing you softly. "I just wasn't expecting it to be so soon."

"She got desperate." Colby said, which made Sam chuckle.

"As always. Can't handle some teasing, hm?"

"Just... just... please." You begged, already feeling drunk by their mere touch.

"Please what, baby?" He asked, crawling on top of the bed. Colby made you lie on your chest, giving you a slap on the ass when he got the oportunity, making you whine.

"Please, take it off..." You mewled, feeling another slap before moving your hand towards his crotch.

"Then pull it out if you need it so badly, sweetheart." Colby whispered in your ear, biting it slightly. You could feel his fingers rubbing against your aching cunt, slowly pressing against the fabric.

You gulped and did as told, holding onto Sam's pants and taking off his belt, unzipping his pants. Your panties were slowly being pulled down while you kept on paying attention to the bulge underneath Sam's pants.

On the other hand, Colby's eyes darkened at the view he was receiving. Your dripping wet cunt made his own mouth water. He held onto your ass cheeks tightly before moving his thumbs towards your lips and spreading them apart.

Such a lewd site to admire. Licking his lips, he got on his knees and gave you a long, wet, lick. A moan escaped your lips, gripping onto the clothed dick you were rubbing against your palm, making him grunt a soft "Fuck."

Your legs shuddered at the feeling of his tongue against your heat. It almost made you lose consciousness right there due to your neediness.

"Come on, love. Don't leave me hanging." Sam snapped you from your dream world. You obliged, taking out his growing friend and admiring the view, trying to surpress some moans before holding his length and stroaking it a few times with the precum that was already dripping from his tip.

It made him sigh in response, touching your hair and softly caressing it in the meanwhile. "That's it. Mh." He bit his lower lip while looking at your panting face. Colby, on the other hand, started sucking aggressively. Thrusting his tongue deep inside of you, touching as much as he could.

Moaning whilst savouring your taste, trying to memorize every single inch of you with his tongue. It made you moan in response, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Trying not to wait any longer, you put Sam's dick inside of your warm mouth. Sucking onto his tip, trying to regain a bit of the consciousness You've been seemingly getting away from.

Bobbing your head up and down his length, you couldn't help but moan around it, giving him vibrations that made him see the stars for a few seconds. He helped you out, pushing himself deeper inside of you, almost making you gag at how filled your mouth was.

A few tears falling from your eyes while the pleasure from both sides was noticeable. You could feel the quick knot on your stomach unravelling, making you unconsciously close your legs around Colby's face, only for him to slap your ass one more time, making you moan once again.

It didn't take long until you released yourself. Him, helping you ride out your orgasm while Sam started thrusting harder against your throat, releasing himself inside it. Pulling away, he smirked at the face you were making. He couldn't hold himself, switching you around so that you could look at Colby.

"Look at this pretty little face, so needy for us." Sam said, cleaning a bit of his cum that was dripping out of your mouth. You gulped it down while looking at Colby's smile. Before he could even respond, you all heard a beep.

It was a REM-POD.

"Almost forgot this was a haunted house." Colby chuckled and stood up. It seems he fisted himself whilst he was busy eating you up. "So, let's continue that video, shall we? We definitely gave the ghosts a show just now." He laughed and fixed himself. As you looked at him confused, Sam stood up and fixed his pants as well.

You were in disbelief. Were they really going to just continue on like that?

"I'm sorry, but... fuck the video." You said, trying to regain your breath before completely sitting down. "Come here and fuck me instead."

Needless to say, you guys weren't able to finish the video.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

sorry that it took me a while (i had writers block for a while) but i finally found a good concept to go with to make it more interesting! hope you like it!

reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated <3

~nikkõ

473 notes · View notes

vyzz-undercover · 7 months ago

Text

the voices have made this happen

[cato/f!ambassador]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(5,900ish words) (OUUGHHHHH)

CONTENT WARNINGS:

•slight dubcon

•hints of size kink [obligatory]

•vaginal fingering

•oral [f receiving]

•mild possessive behaviour

•the consequences of ignoring important medical devices

•mentions of (hypothetical) torture

•tumblrs recurringly cancerous formatting

———————————————————————————————————

im back on my bullshit after having to do overnights so as payment to the dark gods of whoring and degeneracy i humbly offer this taglist of sweet darling who've indulged my insanity: @the-raven-lady, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @bispecsual, @lemon-russ, @kit-williams, @passionofthesith, @egrets-not-regrets, @moodymisty, @sinistermojo, @justeverythingnothingelse, @pluvio-tea, @thevoidscreams, @beckyninja, @yestheantichrist!!! if you wanna be tagged (or not) in the next let me know!!! also it may take me longer to do a part four to this namely because ive got more wageslaving ahead of me soon but alas i'll definitely have rowboat girlyman catch em. also maybe give cato some top. myehehehehe,,, AND THANK YOU FOR READING AS USUAL ILY ALL!!! :3

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Cato is just about leaving.

After having spent the better part of an hour discussing the predicted destruction pathway of a hive-fleet on the system's rim with his Father; it sends his balls into his throat when you nearly run into him in the chamber's huge archway.

It only takes a fraction of a second to catalogue your presence.

You're wearing the same utilitarian blue robe as you had been last week again.

Last week, when he'd been pounding you insensible on a lounge in the library—Cato promptly quashes the insidious memory, smothering down any sort of reaction. But there is a change in comparison to the dizzying reminder: there's a new addition to the reoccurring outfit.

You've brought a navy, high-collared turtleneck into the mix, layered below your lapels.

So, the efforts of his mouth hadn't gone unheeded, then.

Throne, if he's not smug, he's got no bloody clue what he is.

Cato steps aside and turns to allow you entrance first before his exit.

"Commander Sicarius," you lilt with a soft voice and a small downward tip of your chin, all while holding his gaze.

He's transfixed periodically at the honeyed sort of warmth in your eyes.

Despite himself, he lingers and greets you with a slow, "Lady Ambassador."

The left side of his mouth twitches upward in a half-aborted smirk that he quickly tries to mask as a stern, frown-nod combination.

You break the staring match and Cato's confident he's salvaged his slip-up without detection.

Or not—because oh, fuck—if he doesn't feel the burning focus of a Primarch's eyes boring a hole into the side of his head like a brand.

It only lasts an instant, but the second is an eternity to him.

Of course, you're oblivious to this subtle exchange—and promptly trot past him to his Father's vast desk.

"My Lord Primarch," you say with a curt little bow; and then Guilliman's attention is solely on you, his favourite little pet project. "I read the data-drives you instructed from the preceding article logging. I've arranged them back to the most recent mark counts."

You're looking for an empty spot to lay them on his table, but with all the meticulously arranged stacks, it's none too easy to find one.

"Perfect," the Primarch breaths, "Just on the side there is fine, don't worry."

Obligingly, you lay them atop a small mountain of paperwork.

"Do you need anything else of me, my Lord?" You chirp brightly, the tone of your voice so very painfully sweet—Cato is nearly overwhelmed fighting a pitched battle against the urge to run over, pick you up and shake you around suddenly.

Guilliman chuckles, waving one massive hand about vaguely, "You've done more than enough for me today, why don't we leave it at that for now, hm? Go on."

"Of course; thank you, and have a good evening, my Lord," You say, bow once more, and turn on your heel from the Primarch, and—and smile at Cato as you walk back towards the exit. That's—that's the first time you've smiled at him. His twin hearts lurch, slamming forward against the inside of his fused chest cavity. It's perfect abominable. You rotten temptress, he's—he's going to rectify that audacity later. Or now, if you're... possibly heading the same direction he is. Which is whatever direction you're going, purely by chance.

It's merely coincidence, he swears.

He's certainly not planning on hounding after you like a dog tailing a bitch in heat.

He's certainly not going to drag you into a side room the second he's sure no-one with a credible opinion's around.

He's certainly not going to indulge in anything heretical, like bending you bare over his knee for daring to taunt him.

Cato makes as if to fall in step behind you as you pass the threshold before him, but is quickly halted by his Father's curt, "I do not believe you have been dismissed, Cato."

He's never been subjected to such sinking dread quite so nonchalantly.

"Approach."

Cato complies stuffily, sparing a glance at your figure disappearing down the corridor before acquiescing. He's practically dragging his ceramite boots across the intricate rugs as he nears the Primarch's seated but colossal form.

Guilliman isn't looking at him, having had returned to notating a miscellaneous form.

The scritch-scratch of his gene-sire's preferred, yet archaic method of manually writing on the parchment is like someone grating a plate with a fork to his ears right now.

"You've gotten over your petty grievances regarding the Ambassador at last, I take it?" Guilliman asks, without looking up.

It is not Cato's duty to like or dislike. Nor is it to be biased without reason—his opinions are to be intellectual, not emotional. His duty is to assess, analyse and provide feedback, so that his Primarch can take it into account when making rulings and decisions.

Cato swallows around the proverbial hunk of drywall lodged in his throat and answers, "She has proven herself... useful, yes, sire."

Guilliman finally meets his eyes but says nothing for a short while. There's dark bags under his Primarch's eyes, and the deep, stern crease permanently between his dark blonde brows is a slight bit harsher, but the only thing Cato can parse out of the expression's intent is a vague sense of knowing. Because, insofar, he's thought himself quite adept at reading his Primarch; and rather well versed in deciphering the intricacies of his moods.

And right now, he feels like he's being read like an open manuscript.

The daunting prospect Cato's caught sinks it's teeth in his gullet. It's impossible, he's not left any room for suspicion, he's covered his tracks—there's no logical reason why he should be getting raked with such a look.

His gene-sire isn't a psyker nor omniscient, just impossibly intelligent—and so absurdly good at the mathematics of plotting and planning that it only appears superficially as if he is all-seeing. He can't possibly know what Cato has been doing—or rather, who he's been doing.

"It's about time," his Father hums abruptly, suddenly disinterested. "Now you're dismissed."

Cato nods, turns on his boot heel, and nigh bolts marches out the room. His proverbial tail definitely not between his legs.

The hall outside Guilliman's apartments is a central domed area that functions as a meeting area, where people go to one of six looming hallways. It's the bottom of a series of levels; and above, three echelons encircled by arcades and balustrades, framed on the exterior by engaged columns.

But the structure itself is immense and ancient, even by Imperial standards. One of the few still-original, unaltered parts of the great Gloriana-class warship's innards. It is doused in long swathes of red carpet and great standards of Magcraggian note, alongside glorious, heroic frescoes depicting Legiones Astartes in their thousands, crusading across the heavens with the Emperor their head.

Cato keeps his head down as he passes them, uneasy with guilt. Feeling as if their lenses are following him—intent on venturing into the lower layers to brood.

Several Astartes are hovering about amongst the personnel and serfs. The baselines look up at him in awe, and his Brothers nod in respect, but he pays them all no mind.

The furthest corridor beckons him, and so he goes; down the complex system of broad walks with high, barrel vault ceilings, mazing through the vessel's higher clearance reaches like arteries through a body.

Cato is seething, and self-admittedly itching to take a howler of a swing at the next thing that speaks to him.

He cuts down the southern channel and sees one of his subordinate Victrix Guard lingering in the middle of a groin vault intersection.

The younger Astartes is about to continue straight, yet he pauses.

Brother Marcellus meets Cato's eyes for a second, clearly notes his Commander's absolutely stinking mood from a hundred meters off; nods, swallows, takes a step backward—and changes direction to go left rather than pass him.

Cato's too pissed to even linger on the strangeness of the action.

Still, he doesn't rightly blame him.

Cato strides on, back straight, chin up—the red shawl pinned beneath his pauldrons swirling behind him.

His thoughts are eating at him the whole while.

He's sure his Primarch is just trying to innocently divine his sudden change of mind regarding you. There's no way his Father's aware of why. And yet, guilt is a big black wolf nipping at his ankles, making him hasten; and unease clouds about his heart. He's mortified, for lack of a better word.

The full implications of the situation are too enormous to be faced all at once; so he picks the smallest, most banal facet he can think of.

That being, you.

You, who he'll never see again if his Primarch finds out.

You, who's practically damned him without knowing it.

You, who he's now valiantly trying not to imagine in a hundred different circumstances where he gets away with it all. Each one more heretical than the last—it's like it was before he'd managed a hand on you: his body giving in to suffocating delusions, sleepless in his cot; lapping at whatever scant, lust-soaked morsels his mind offers up.

One of his favourites remains you scantily clad beneath a moonlit night sky, on the parapet of his ancestral fortress on the coastal edge of Perusia.

He likes to fantasise you like it there.

He suspects you would.

He knows just about all there is to know about you on paper, and wonders if you know much of Talassar. Or if you've read about Castra Tanagra. He assumes Guilliman would share the tale of that famed old battle with you as a part of your readings.

Each impossible reverie is a new shiny nail in his coffin, or dreadnaut—it depends where and how he dies, and if there's anything scrape up of him when he eventually goes down in a blaze of glory and duty, and honour.

If his Primarch catches him, there's going to be none of that.

He'll be struck from living record, like Titus had been. Cato would be lucky to get a little plaque in the deepest pits of the Fortress of Hera. Reduced to a whispered memory of his achievements passed solemnly between Captains, followed up with words of disappointment. Of waste. Until his memory dies with them and his deeds fade into obscurity, lost to any new brothers.

The fate that awaits you would somehow be worse. Cato was always going to die in war, as was his right—but you—you were not fashioned for such things. Yes, Guilliman enjoys you, but that fact won't save you. Just like it won't save Cato for all his usefulness. You'd be tried as a heretic, as a source of corruption upon the Legiones, and you'd be made to suffer; because torture ever comes before execution. You're so very soft weak in so very many ways. Your life lived in a gilded cage, without pain nor discomfort that extends further than grating professional grievances—he doesn't want to imagine the sound of you screaming, but he does.

He cannot stand the thought.

The sudden urge to barricade you in his chambers for permanent safe keeping is all-consuming.

It's suddenly all he can think about.

He has to find you.

The amount of serfs passing and parting to allow his passage thin out to nothing.

Even from the sterile confines of one of the many winding hallways, Cato abruptly swears he can hear the echoed rush of sandals—your sandals—reverberating off the floor.

He hadn't notice you following behind immediately because, damn it, he's spiralling thinking.

He chances a confrontation, and rounds about-face.

You stand there in the middle of the empty hallway like you've got a bolter aimed at you, frozen.

"Come here," he says, clipped.

You do not.

"Come here."

Again, no compliance.

"Do you pride yourself on being a idiot?" His voice is scathing now, taking a heavy step into your space and being met by you staying stock stiff, still. "Do you have any idea what that stunt of yours earlier might incur?"

"What?" You blink, finally animating. "I didn't do anything—"

"You know what you did," he hisses, accusatory. "You're hollow between the ears, but you're not blind."

Lips pursing tightly in mental deliberation, you make a fey noise of annoyance as a little frown graces your features, apparently not deigning to offer a comment back.

"Do you not understand that... this," he gesticulates between you both and his voice falls to a whisper. "This... is not common allowance?"

"It's not?"

Are you being intentionally dense at this point, or is it just second nature?

Cato raises a hand to knead the crease between his brows, "No."

"That explains a lot, actually," you say, seemingly without any real comprehension on the gravity of the matter. "I couldn't find any notes or references on it."

He's genuinely stunned, "Is that what you were doing when—"

"When I was rudely interrupted," you cut in, the comment is nigh a spat insult.

Cato isn't sure what to say to that sudden display of spine, and grumbles.

He surmises the optimal action is complete disregard.

Therefore, he has no problem turning on the heel of his sabatons and starting his pace on again.

"So... this isn't normal by Astartes standards?"

He's taken aback at your abrupt want for conversation after all that. Namely because it's atypical. You never attempted small talk with him. You never do anything but scurry off when he's accosted you for you flagrant overstepping—wait.

He feels as if the paradigm between you both has shifted again since the last time for some reason. More than last time, actually. More than you just simply having the audacity to backtalk him.

It's like some symptom of a deeper sickness rising to the surface.

It makes him unreasonably curious suspicious.

He wants to see just how much ground you'll give, so he plays along and answers, "Not as far as I am aware, no."

You hum, and immediately are at it again, posturing, "Surely you have heard of cases of it happening?"

"I have not," Cato says, and you hum in consideration.

You're satisfied at that information for a brief while, but then he remembers you cannot shut your mouth for more than five minutes, and purses his lips. He's already tiring of your incessant questioning.

"But you'd done it before?"

And that's just great.

You've expertly found an exposed nerve.

More kindling on the bonfire of him having an aneurysm before the cycle's end.

Cato can feel the hint of pressure behind his eyes as he begins increasing his walking speed. "I don't think that is a relevant question."

You haste to stay in step, "It definitely is."

"You ought to learn a civil fucking tongue when you're addressing me, woman," he bites out, nose crinkling into a sneer.

Unperturbed by his short-tempered comment, another thoughtful little 'hmm' slips out of you.

"So, to conclude... you were as inexperienced as I was at the start, and all those gloating insults back then were just projection?" You suddenly blurt out at rather impressive speed, like a politician possessed—before finishing with, "Sorry, 'all those gloating insults back then were just projection,' Commander Sicarius."

Cato grits his teeth and feels his eye twitch.

He stops, turns to look over his pauldron, and stares bloody murder.

He can't even imagine the idiocy in your brain that gave you the imprimatur to say that aloud.

But Throne, the sly little glint in your pretty eyes suddenly has his face thudding with heat.

Then you smile at him for the second time ever.

Cato bites back the urge to ogle you dumbly, and actually feels himself thicken in his body-glove in real time, because oh, fuck—his hind brain practically pelts him across the jaw with the mental pict of that sweet mouth lathing up the side of his cock.

Mentally unseated for a moment, his brows furrow; and he quickly turns away, applying himself entirely to the task of trudging down the stagings.

The silence is a breath of fresh air.

Even if he can still hear your laboured breathing a few steps back him from him. You're straining to keep up with his pace, and it's an excellent punishment for you. His heavy sabatons clank-clank-clank on the steel decking, and your little shoes practically pitter-patter in contrast. It's a syncopated rhythm that he's absentmindedly trying to match—and when he lingers for a step he manages to even the beat out.

He hangs a left, and scales the wide stairs to the open intersection platform above two at a time; trying not to snort amusedly at the little groan you let out as you hurry up them behind him, heaving.

Cato realises abruptly that you're actually, really, seriously following him—and pretending you're not.

He makes a right at the top and then waits for you to fall in step.

And, pointedly, he then turns and doubles back around.

You stand there stupefied for a moment, before grumbling softly and continuing down the thoroughfare without him.

If his observation skills hold any weight, he heads straight into the nearest open room and waits for you to follow.

He doesn't activate the locking mechanism on the other side on purpose when he strides in, and lets the sliding door close behind him.

This particular room is forgettable in its ubiquitousness, though unusual. He has no idea of it's actual intended purpose. It's fitted with screens and database terminals as if it's for debriefing purposes, but he has no real way of confirming. What he can catalogue is that there's wraparound surfaces littered with candles. A few strips of harsh lighting and scant furniture—a tallish counter and a few long benches. They're thankfully Astartes sized.

Which means he can sit down and pray for you to walk right into the metaphorical snare he's just laid.

Not a minute later, the door's sliding mechanism triggers and you scurry through—only to promptly go stiff.

You stare at him like a rat he's just found by lifting a crate.

The mechanism shuts automatically behind you and it apparently spooks you enough to jump a little.

"You're disgustingly predictable," he harrumphs, unimpressed.

A flush rises to your face as you scowl, "You're disgustingly predictable," you shoot back, echoing his words.

Of course, that audacity of yours leads to a short stalemate.

He huffs out a sigh as he concedes out of sheer frustration and says, "Three-seven-five-eight-eight-two-nine-one."

You blink dumbly at him, "...what?"

"It's my locking code," he growls, and Throne, you must be acting stupid just to grate him; because there's no way your brain is so smooth as to not connect the dots. "It's for the door, moron."

A soft 'ohh' leaves you as you turn and step aside to the key pad fixed into the frame.

"Three-seven-five-eight-eight-two-nine-one," he's agonisingly forced to say once again.

"Three-nine-five-eight-eight-two-seven-one..." you mumble to yourself.

Cato hears an angry beep and suddenly wants to smash his head into a wall repeatedly.

Grinding his molars, he snarls, "Three-seven-five-eight-eight-two-nine-one," and then adds, "If I have to repeat that one more time, I'm going to throw you out of the nearest airlock."

And it seems the threat of violence works wonders, because you don't bungle the input this time.

Cato sighs, exasperated, and leans back against the lip of the table behind the bench.

He ought to start carrying around a correctional stun rod. Just for whenever you annoy him. If it's good enough for a Neophyte to suffer, it's good enough for you, he supposes.

Or it'll send you into a seizing fit.

He's not to sure of the maximum voltage a baseline can take without their singular, puny little heart giving out.

One disciplinary option scratched out, then.

But he can think of many, many more to make a model Ambassador out of you. The wonders of carefully applied violence are plentiful. A little roughing up never hurts, or at least, not for long. And fuck, do you need some lessons on proper manners. He could have you smacked into shape like a show pony in no time—even if it'd be more like teaching a grox to trot lateral movements. Then again, he also believes if he stuck a frag far enough up a Carnifex's ass, he could probably get it to play Regicide.

And then pointedly, he starts thinking about your ass.

Cato is so utterly lost on the tangent of hypotheticals that he's flabbergasted when a small mouth lands on his own.

He hadn't even been paying attention.

He hadn't even noticed you'd neared.

It feels like the breath has been knocked out him at the sheer unexpectedness of it.

The kiss is hasty, your eyes scrunched shut and cheeks flushed, scowling with focus.

All the while, his mind reels because Throne, the contact of his lips to yours doesn't really feel particularly profound aside from how soft your skin is—but the intention of it is the real reward.

Cato's genuinely infuriated when you pull away.

You blink owlishly at him, giving him a cautious look like you're trying to gauge his reaction.

There are a thousand things he wants to ask, to say, but the foremost among them is but one.

"Again," he huffs, lessening the distance between you just enough to invite you back.

And he thinks that perhaps he’s abusing his station over you, but when you tentatively find a hold on his gorget to steady yourself to give him another kiss—those thoughts are all but erased from his mind. It's a curious weight off his shoulders to have you initiate and to show you want him in return, especially since it's as new to you as it is for him.

Nonetheless, he can't even imagine finding a reason to stop you, so he starts blindly mouthing; trying to coordinate around the fact he's so much larger than you.

The angle is difficult, but he's willing to follow your lead. Your body is even more fragile when he's in full armour. The risk of actually hurting you is realer than ever, but he can't help the desire to wrap an gauntlet around your waist and pull you closer to him. Thankfully, you let him when he urges you to, trembling hands flitting across his chestplate like you're unsure of what, exactly, you should be holding—and he catches the tiny line between your brows smoothing out as you risk a peek. Only for you to yelp, nervously wrenching yourself back in flustered surprise upon meeting his unwavering stare.

It's as if you expected something else.

He senses he's made a mistake of some kind.

Then he remembers from the motion-picts he's not supposed to keep glaring at you when kissing.

Regardless, he studies your face, memorising the lingering want still clearly there like his life depends on it.

He pulls you in and kisses you again, just because he can, this time brief and chaste. And then he goes for a third, fourth—fifth, each time slightly longer, until finally he rears back; and when he does you push up on your toes just a little, trying to chase him, but lose the nerve; although to Cato the reason for your faltering is, frankly, irrelevant. Because just like him, you lack the practical capacity to really know what next step you should take. Still, you look down at his armour, as if there's a latch to pull that magically undoes all his wargear.

He knows he's not going to get himself out of his armour in any reasonable way or amount of time.

There's no way he's getting the satisfaction of having you on him right now—but he still wants to keep you near.

He thinks he hears you ask for something, but he's too distracted to catch it in time.

"What?" Cato scowls, "What do you want now?"

It's clear you've been struck by your own embarrassment, strung up somewhere between shy and wanton, "I.. uh..."

"Spit it out," he rumbles.

You wince, hesitant as you mumble, "You, uh... i-in me."

Cato's brain skids to a halt. And it's the gall of that request alone that has him sweeping you up off the ground and spinning you around to sit in his lap.

It's obvious you're overwhelmed at being held to the formidably larger size of himself in full-plate. But as usual, you're yet to actively complain. Using his vambrace as a leg-bar to scoop under your thighs, he folds you in his grasp—your knees pressed to your chest as you're tucked back against his pauldron and chestplate.

The angle forces the hems of your robe aside, and he can see the underside curve of your ass; along with the plump mound of your vulva under the white of your small-clothes.

Cato's suddenly offended by their existence. You didn't wear any last time, so why now? The irritation of there being one more thing between you and him is enough justification to yank at them, tearing them loose—before throwing them aside.

You grumble sourly, which he chooses to ignore.

The palm of his gauntlet smooths across your hip, and you make a small huff as you shiver, goose-bumps suddenly covering your exposed flesh.

Cato lets the pads graze closer and closer to your sex, content to watch you impatiently glare at his armoured fingers from between the gap of your thighs.

With little preamble, he's stuffing his middle in. You're already so wet it's practically a cake-walk. Your cunt swallows down each articulating segment of his armoured finger down to the knuckle. The fact he's going to have to personally scrub your slick out from between the joints, instead of a lowly serf, is infinitely worth the shrill whine he receives as tribute.

"Would that my wargear had a zipper," he breathes, and fuck, he grins behind the obscurity of his gorget at the mournful mewl that remark earns. "I'd have you on your knees sucking for all the cunted trouble you've caused me."

You're making a warp-awful attempt at keeping yourself together, high-strung as you evidently are. Little more than a minute of him pumping his finger in and out of you has you red-faced and panting. All it takes to get those heavy breaths of yours to change into proper whines is his large thumb-pad adjusting to rest on your clit, applying pressure. You jerk, reflexively trying to buck into every motion. Fighting and failing to withhold the stuffy little moans escaping you—trying to stave off the inevitable by scrambling at the thigh plating of his power armour with one hand and tugging at his couter with the other.

Some part of Cato wants to stop solely out of spite for you being so grating earlier, or some other stupid mercurial justification of his; but instead, he simply continues, letting you squirm on his fingers.

And squirm you do.

It's clear to him the tide of it all is becoming too much for you to resist. Your sandal'd feet kick out where he's got your legs secured, joining in on the struggling as it begins anew when his thumb starts circling. It's a good sign, so he adds his pointer into you to bolster the stretch, curling in; before letting his fingers fan out inside you, stretching rather than stabbing. Your hips try to stutter forward in time with the quick thrusting of his digits, broken whimpers resonating off the room's walls. He promptly stuffs down to the knuckle and curls them again—and you all but bleat his surname as you're dragged into a fast and apparently exhausting orgasm. Just knowing he's you got you beat has his erection ache where it's trapped under the suiting and plating of his navel.

Cato can't feel you clenching through all the layers separating his skin from yours, but he knows from experience that you're seizing in fits internally—tight little cunt trying to milk a load out of an Astartes cock that should've been stuffed in you.

Just to allow himself one last bit of smugness, he scissors his fingers; giving a final swirl for good measure.

The shivered sob is worth every possible future disciplinary action he'll receive.

He pulls his gauntlet away slowly, and the wet shlick of it leaving you is almost amusingly alike pulling a blade from sinew. It's a degenerate comparison, he knows, but it's true.

Nonetheless, he splays out his hand and swallows dryly, eyeing the sticky, clear liquid webbing out and thinning between each ridge of his gauntlet'd digits.

Suddenly focused entirely on the fluid on his fingers, he pulls his vambrace barring under your knees up away. Now limp, and without the support, you slide off his lap and onto the floor in a slow slump.

"Nn-ngh," You groan weakly, face-down, legs still juddering a little.

Seeing as you're preoccupied, Cato doesn't even dignify the concept of hesitation, and promptly jams his fingers in his mouth—lathing the aftermath of your orgasm from them. And Throne, the taste of your hormones make him groan. He's absolutely stunned, unsure of how to act. He's so fucking stupid, why didn't he do this earlier? He's practically drugged by the omophagic aftereffect—getting off on your second hand bliss. Some sort of fey feedback loop in his brain catalysing his next decision solely on instinct.

He clambers to the floor and gets to his knees guards, securing a mitt on your bared thigh to roll you onto your back.

Apparently boneless with afterglow, you're easy to manhandle.

You barely have the strength to do much more than crane your head up at him and whine as he arranges your thighs apart, settling on his front between them with a warp-awful clank; before lifting your legs up to rest onto either lip of his gorget.

You try to scud back on your ass suddenly, but are quickly halted when he holds you fast by the hip.

He raises a confused brow.

"I-Isn't—" you start, still gathering the scraps of your brain together so soon post-orgasm, "Isn't y-your saliva acid?"

Cato suddenly wants to cuff you on the ear, "Who the hell told you that?"

"M-Master Calgar," you mumble.

Oh, of course, the gossiping hen.

He's going to have words with the Lord Defender of Greater Ultramar the next time they meet—words like 'for fuck sakes, stop scaring the woman he's trying to eat out with talk of Betcher's gland, Marneus,' come to mind, but then Cato realises that doesn't sound like he's not fucking you, so he quickly settles on: 'stop dignifying the Ambassador's hundred-and-one insane questions.'

"Not Ultramarines," Cato manages not to snarl, "It's a vestigial organ in most of us."

Your voice is shaky as you parrot, "Most of us?"

"Yes," He grunts, and promptly buries his face in your cunt.

The disproportion in size is painfully apparent when he realises his whole damned tongue is able to drag a stripe up the entire splay of you with minimal effort.

The pitched gasp he wins out of you is pure sin, and he's on the brink of swooning; but then you're running your trap again.

"Please, d-don't tell me you're one that can spit acid—" you manage to warble, seemingly still stuck on the topic.

Cato sighs as he's forced to pull away from your vulva, "I think you're forgetting I had my tongue on your tonsils in the library."

"Th-that's different," you stammer. "That's not as sensitive."

A long, unimpressed deadpan paints itself on his face.

"So," he starts with a bated hiss, "And let me be perfectly clear in this—you believe your vagina is more susceptible to burns than your mouth?"

Your face transforms into a strange mix of embarrassed and angry.

"I didn't say that—"

"Yes, you did," Cato grumbles.

"Did not," you huff.

"You—you just fucking did," he snaps, frustrated enough that he can feel one of the veins at his temple bulge. "The implication is obvious, you insufferable little whore."

You snort, but stay silent.

The argument appears, for all intents and purposes, to be finished.

"Did not," you say abruptly once more, pouting.

Cato's eyes roll back in his skull as he grits his teeth.

"Throne of Terra, if you don't drop the subject, acid in your cunt will be the least of your worries," he all but snarls, and that apparently quietens you enough that he can get back to lapping at you—the flat of his tongue running over your clit and earning a jolt.

He wraps his lips around the pink little nub and sucks. And that's all it apparently takes to make up for his amateur career in the practice.

You siphon down a sharp breath and let out a garbled cry, hips canting forward into his mouth—to which he obligingly stuffs his tongue into your slick entrance.

There's a satisfaction well beyond simple pleasure that swamps him at the way your thighs shake either side of his head. His own breath is hot about him, stuffy and dizzying; and the skin pressed against his cheeks is warm and smooth.

You're panting when he goes back to lapping over your clit, perching yourself up on a bent elbow and reaching out a hand.

Your fingers card through the messed brown hair atop his head. And he stiffens without realising—but he realises something: like this, the touch is ecstasy—pure, golden ecstasy. Every bit of higher thought in his head evaporates when you stroke him again.

A long, rumbling subvocal moan tears from him.

The infrasound vibration makes you buck weakly into his mouth again, teary eyed afore him as he adjusts his grip on you and crawls closer.

He's suddenly acutely aware that in this new, much more prone position, he's able to grind his body armour into his groin guard pressed on the floor. And as soon as the action bears results—namely a scorching burr of pleasure racing up his spine—he's deadset on rutting against the ground like a slavering beast.

He's frotting himself at a pace so rabid it'd be cruel to subject your cunt to. It's brutal, and the harsh scraping sound of plasteel on steel only further proves that. It's just frantic lust—he's desperate.

It's complete insanity how close to finishing he is so quickly.

Not as close as you, though.

He can feel how your legs jump with each pass of his tongue; and then you're unraveling in front of his very eyes.

"I-I can't—I can't, S-Sicarius, I-I—" You ramble, dazed, trying to get away as he works you right through it, sobbing and oversensitive while he's rutting himself closer and closer to his own end.

It all comes to a head when your fingers dig into his hair, tugging—and his brain is overrun with static. A drawn out groan scathes from his maw as any sense of rhythm scatters like light through a prism. For a fraction of a second, the pleasure is serene.

Then it's abject agony, he feels—he feels like Roboute Guilliman himself has just taken a running start and kicked him in the balls.

"F-Fuck–ing—gh—" he chokes, vision swimming, straining against the tide of the torment. His back arches up, and he curls inward on himself; white-hot pain clocking his nervous system into overdrive. Every muscle in his abdomen is doused in acid. He's tolerated being shot, stabbed, burnt without so much as blinking—but this is an entirely new and entirely different sort of wound. It's like he's pissing promethium. It's—it's the catheter, he realises. He'd forgotten about the bloody catheter jammed up his cock.

Through the searing ordeal, he manages to force his armour's facilities to finally abide his impulses and dose him with a pain dampener.

And then everything's fine.

He opens eyes he wasn't aware he'd closed and finds your face has suddenly gotten far closer to his.

"S-Sicarius?" You stammer, and there's an honest panic in your voice. "Sicarius, p-please, please—a-are you okay?"

He realises he's on his back, and you're sitting beside him, half draped on his chestplate, frantically trying to figure out what's wrong with him to no avail.

You've leaned in so close he can feel your rushed breathing.

"I'm fine," Cato groans, and you sputter out a sigh.

"I-I don't know what happened, I-I—" you're still wildly confused and raving, and he inhales deeply; only to be greeted by the sour animal stink of fear practically dripping from you.

Cato rolls his tongue around inside his mouth and cringes knowingly at the foaming side-effect of the chem he'd self-administered, the acrid taste mixed with your slick is certainly not an ideal cocktail.

The sincerity of concern behind your reaction is baffling. He's not made of glass, for fuck sakes—and he's a bit pissy about the fact you'd actually fallen victim to the idea of him suffering some grievous injury so easily. But he supposes where there's a will of baseline overreaction, there's a way.

"You're acting like a child, woman. Pull yourself together," he sighs hoarsely, hoping the comment jars you out of your hysteria—or at the very least scares you off.

It does exactly neither, and you sidle in closer and rest your cheek on his jaw.

It’s an action so overwhelmingly horribly affectionate that it would’ve been a crime to not press into it with a lean of his head. Or, at least, that's the half-assed justification he tells himself.

Because he's loving enduring your attention, not seeking it; and therefore only humouring you when he lifts a hand and settles the wide splay of it on your flank as a comfort.

He shouldn't be, but he is.

#warhammer 40k x reader #warhammer 40k #reader insert #warhammer fanfic #cato sicarius #space marine x reader #cato sicarius x reader #writing #ultramarines #cato 'im going to kill the next person i fucking see' sicarius #*squeaky noise*#ambassador 'omg hiiiii'#FUCKKK #anyways #roboute guilliman #i am so fucking sorry you have to deal with this shit baby girl #also LMFAO I DO THINK CALGAR LOOOOVES A GOOD BITCHING SESSION

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karlachismylife · 1 month ago

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I am a little scared to write characters with different backgrounds, like Russian characters in the CoD franchise, because I'm afraid a Russian person will see it and be like, "What the fuck is this" and laugh at it maybe 😭 So I have to ask, do you ever find yourself judging fics based on how they portray the characters and the language? Like "this doesn't fit well" or "that's not how it works" type of stuff.. Are there any deal breakers, something you despise in fics, or maybe even advice for writing Russian characters... Thank you in advance, have a great day! 🩵

Hey comrade! This is a good question! And I can totally relate; not just to writing non-Russian characters, but even writing Russians from CoD is intimidating, because they are much older than me and witnessed a lot of historical and cultural changes in the country (even a whole another country if we think that at least Nikolai was born in USSR) that I haven't, and trust me, times haven't stopped being crazy here for the last 30 years or even more, so for me not having witnessed the 90s or being a baby in 2000s is a reason to be scared shitless writing for them, cuz fuck if I know how a person that lived through those times thinks.

All that to say, I think it's completely normal to feel awkward writing characters with backgrounds you're not familiar with, and also it's not a big deal if you get stuff wrong sometimes. I mean, isn't there like a whole bunch of fics about task force 141 and the "tapping out" ceremony that seems to exist in USA army only? People still enjoy them and no one was hurt by it. It's fiction and art, and first and foremost we want you to enjoy creating it; moreover, you are doing it and sharing it for free, so every decent person will always be grateful and supportive, and if anyone is coming at you aggressively for getting something wrong, you can tell them идите нахуй and block them. Mocking an artist that put effort and love into a piece of art is one of the worst things one can do.

(sorry this turned out longer than I expected so I'm hiding it under the cut). CW!politics and heavy themes, somewhat of a rant. I tried to summarize in the end and give a few tips so if you want to skip the rant, go down.

So me and my Paris (@nrdmssgs) came togther to make a list of stuff that might catch our eye or turn us off from reading a fic. Keep in mind that these are just opinions of two people! And I know for a fact that some Russians will not agree with me on some of these. So again, my main tip is not to overstress; we are genuinely glad when Russian characters get recognition despite all the negativity often surrounding them.

First, I'll just say, there are a lot of things that irk us in the games themselves. This goes not just for weird Russian accents or sometimes broken Russian altogether; I personally am very displeased with how freely (and wrongly, lol) they use the term "gulag" (ГУЛАГ) there. First of all, it is not a synonym to prison/camp, it's the name of the government agency that was in charge of running labor camps in USSR, so calling the camp itself this word is simply incorrect; second, it's a big tragic page in history, so throwing it around willy-nilly as some oooh scary prison place where characters in a pew pew game are put and can escape just feels insensitive to me. Generations of people whose countless families were hurt by this system are very much alive right now and it is a raw wound unfortunately, and the government is very much refusing to acknowledge this tragedy in its fullness. So there's that. There's also way too good-looking Makarov that spent who knows how much time in solitary confinement (we have people actively dying in solitary right now in much shorter time), there's Milena with a single bank account (show me one Russian oligarch that doesn't have their money shoved in 100 different places, uh-huh), there's Yegor Novak who is Ukrainan, but speaks Russian (yes, considering that he was born in USSR, he most likely speaks both languages, but erasing his identity is still problematic). So you see, there's a lot of shit to combat in canon already, and it's worth spending time looking into some of these things. Now to the fics!

I will say, I do notice of course when a Russian character is written by a non-Russian person that doesn't know much about Russian language/culture/mentality/history/whatever. And while I understand that it's hard and won't throw a fic away for not getting every little thing right, there is stuff that catches my attention.

The most obvious would be the language, of course. Russian is grammatically much more complicated than English and number one giveaway are mistakes in grammatical cases/genders. Even my good comrade here who knows Russian very well and surprises me with impeccable use of complicated constructions that show they understand some nuanced connotations/usage of words, even they often make mistakes with genders of words. And I can't blame them, for a native English speaker it is a new concept! But this, and also just the sentence structures, incorrect word choice (again, connotations are key) are always jarring in text. Usually I just skim over it and forget in the next sentence, sometimes it does make me laugh, but like. I'm not gonna make fun of anyone for making a mistake in a language, I appreciate when people make effort. But I do encourage everyone to send their Russian text to someone who can proofread it (me, for example, DMs and askbox always open). And if you really want to do it on your own, maybe don't just rely on google translate and such and try to do it with a dictionary and some base-level grammar lessons so you can make sure the endings of the words are alright, at least. Then we can talk about the difference between "blyat'", "blyad'", "blya", "blyadina" and "blyadstvo" :D

Another thing I do always have a quick upset sigh about is when people call borsht a Russian soup. No it's not, it's Ukranian. We do eat it a lot, yes, and it's not inherently bad or wrong to write a Russian character eating/cooking it, but it is nice when people do not add to the appropriation of Ukranian culture that's been going on since for-fucking-ever. Same goes for unfortunately many other cultures that Russian imperialism tried swallowing, so it's always better to google it and check. And just food in general, maybe spend a little time looking up what's the difference between pel'meny and varyeniky or what's okroshka. It's always an amazing experience when someone gets such details right! And an even better experience when you don't erase other Slavic or even Eastern European identities, brushing everyone under "Russian" rug. We are definitely nor a homogenous crowd! Moreover, not everyone born in Russia (and especially USSR) will be Russian. Looking into different ethnicities and nationalities that live here is just interesting if nothing else, but also very very important after centuries of opression.

I also have some non-serious beef with this magical "Siberia" western comrades love writing about, I touched on the topic here. An amazing impression is when people use less broad geographical names or look at less overused places. Did you know that Natalia "Raptor" Orlova is from Kamchatka? It's such a rich region with a lot to tell about!

What I do definitely dislike and it can turn me off from finishing the read at all, is insensitive writing of the characters themselves in terms of their background. It's complicated since I myself am not patriotic at all and I couldn't tell you for the life of me what it means "to be Russian", but it just. You can feel when a person thinks in stereotypes, you know? Like somewhere I saw something, I won't give a direct quote, but the main idea was that Russian/Slavic men all 100% have a breeding kink, and it was worded in a way that kinda felt like, hm, like a bit dehumanizing? Making them out to be these ooga booga barbaic cavemen? And yes, there is a lot to be said about Russian men, much of it very not good, and there is NOTHING wrong with writing a Russian character with a breeding kink, but it felt not nice to read that sentence, so just maybe after you write your piece do some introspection to make sure you weren't dipping into that kind of portrayal out of prejudice. If that's the effect you went for storytelling/your personal enjoyment cuz you like them ooga booga? I won't say a thing. Also the whole vodka/balalaika/ushanka/whatever bullshit, not entirely untrue, again, especially the vodka one, but if you write Nikto drinking kvas (which is non-alcoholic, okay, but still) or baltika beer instead of vodka, you'll make me happier, because it's like a signal "hey look I know a bit more about your culture that a James Bond movie intro showed me once". And in the next scene I'll forgive you even him riding a battle bear with vodka and balalaika in hand.

Coming back to the "barbarization" of Russian men in fics, it irks me a little when people lean too much into the whole Russian bandit/mafia stuff, and there are two characters that suffer from it, but each a little differently, the most. First is Nikolai, and while yes, he is a crime lord of sorts and he has that goddamn golden chain (which most Russian people or at least women find absolutely horrid and oh we do not come near men sporting those irl), I think people often write him... not intelligent enough? Too gruff and rough? He's an intellectual. Well-read, well-spoken, cultured. Level-headed. Whenever people write him too much like a 90s bandit, my heart breaks a little. But then again, I know Russian people that lean into the same set of stereotypes when writing him (but those same people have a lot of other uhhh xhenophobic tendencies that show when talking about other characters so I wouldn't rely on their views).

And then there's probably the biggest pet peeve of mine. Vladimir Makarov. Now, here is a big big disclaimer: YOU CAN WRITE WHATEVER YOU WANT IN YOUR FICS!!! We are already romantacizing military men that none of us (I hope) would approach irl; and if you want to write Makarov or Nikolai or whoever else in a certain way because that's what hits the spot for you, just do it. You want yandere Makarov or mummy issues Nikto or whatever else your heart desires? Go for it. I will be the first one defending your right to write it with a crowbar in hand, even if I myself would never read such a fic. So this here is entirely MY PERSONAL ISSUE. Deal? Deal.

I see it a lot here on tumblr (mostly in x reader fics) and it actually bothers me a lot, but when people write Makarov as this edgelord dark mafia boss. It just misses the point so much. He's an ultra-nationalist, a head of a PMC. They are not mafia, I would honestly argue that they're much worse. I get that they cast a very attractive man to play reboot Makarov and honestly the og Makarov too; I get that villains are the hot thing to be attracted to (sorry if I sound bitter, this is a separate problem I have with fandom and it doesn't matter rn), but Wagner (PMC that Konni is heavily based on) is a real life horror that is still existing even though there have been like structural changes. And they killed a lot of people and had enough power to threaten to overthrow the government so very recently. Rusich (another nationalist military group) is still active and doing horrible things and proudly reporting them online. Smaller far-right pigs are out in the streets doing horrible things. And a lot of it is (not so) subtly encouraged by the government. A lot of it is actively used by the government to gain more power, kill more people, instill more fear. It's a reality we live in, and to me seeing Makarov portrayed with none of that nationalism in sight and with all the allure of a dark romance novel mafia boss is... honestly, painful. Feels like a slap in the face, to be honest, and while I understand that this is the kind of nuance you can't just realize out of nowhere if it's not something you live around and that it's all fiction, it just is really, really hard to read for me. He is not just a complete crazy Joker-type freak, he's not a cool sexy mafia boss, he's a fucking nazi terrorist that can and will be paid by certain people in power to do their dirty work.

In the same route, but luckily I haven't seen it anywhere besides a certain group of Russian CoD fans (which is even more terrifying considering the political implications), but anyone who writes Barkov as a hero/in a positive light - fuck you. Just fuck you. He has interesting/attractive traits as a character, yes, I'm not saying you can't write about him, looking into him from different perspectives, simping for him if you want; but again, just spend some time reading up on recent history and politics that inspired the whole Urzikstan situation0 - and do it all with nuance. Or with a disclaimer that you don't support genocide at least, lol, cuz I'm telling you, I've seen people that made me scared.

However, once again, if you really want exactly that - ignore MY PERSONAL opinion and write it. I am just a gorilla on tumblr, my opinion is not the centre of the world. But what I do consider not a taste issue, but a deeper issue, is writing REAL PMCs and the likes of those in positive light. If anyone with a "Wagner OC" sees this post, just know, I would probably spit in your face irl. Making made-up Makarov go kiss kiss uwu or whatever irks me personally, but I can close the tab and let the author be; I'm sure many people have same opinion about Graves whom I write much more affectionately than some would prefer. But the real shit? That's a hard line.

A quick addition, back coming back to the "barbarization", just portraying Slavic characters being oh so very mesmerized by the !!!wonders of western civilization!!! is funny. There are definitely moments like this, but not as much as you think. Believe it or not, we actually don't live in bear caves.

This got way too long and dark, so let's finish on a lighter note. Russian characters celebrating some very non-Russian holidays (like Thanksgiving or catholic Christmas, even though the second one is not as bad) is funny, when it doesn't have much explanation (like them celebrating it with someone who actually does). "Suka blyat'" is funny, because it's often used where a simple "blyat'" would suffice.

Summarizing, here are general semi-short tips how to write Russian characters:

get your Russian proofread by someone who actually speaks it or at least don't fully rely on google translate. check your cases and genders!

especially if you use cusswords. it's an amazing characterization tool if you manage to use it right, so putting effort into it is always worth it

don't lean into stereotypes. they are partially true, but we kinda can tell when you do that intentionally and with nuance and when you don't know anything beyond them

be mindful about characters' identities and spend a little more time to make sure you are not writing someone else's stuff as "Russian". for the lack of better analogy, it's like mixing all Latin American identities together and writing them all as uhhh Mexican. we don't want to claim others' culture and others most definitely do not want to be erased again

be careful about the "barbarization" of your Slavic characters. sure, someone like Maxim "Minotaur" Bale won't strike you as the most intellectual individual (love you Max), but be intentional with it and don't just make every Slavic man go ooga booga but in Russian

didn't touch much on Russian/Slavic women, but be careful around the whole "money-hungry" stereotype

read up on political shit surrounding your characters. whether you like it or not, Russian people have been shaped by a lot of recent/current political happennings, so missing out even on general understanding of what your character witnessed/what their political views are can ruin a lot of characterization

Russia is fucking huge and does not consist just of Moscow and abstract "Siberia". the amount of cultures, confessions, nature stuff etc in the country is insane. not all Russians are orthodox Christians, but also - many of them are. and also - church was under fire in USSR so this is a separate layer of cultural shit you might want to consider

read Russian literature if you really want to write Russian characters a lot, it'll help you catch a feel of some very specific things like our yearning. it's a very specific thing that if you get right will give me a reading orgasm

same goes for Russian songs. also just don't underestimate the role of music in Russian life!

try to look up Russian "pop culture" (it feels kinda wrong to call it that, but I dunno how else to call it). if you can make your Russian character make an appropriate reference to a movie or say a Russian saying we actually use, it'll be amazing. but it's like level impossible i think so don't give yourself a headache over this, this is just that extra spice that will have me scrolling through your profle suspecting you're actually secretly Russian yourself

watch Soviet/Russian movies to get a better understanding of the vibe, not just what Hollywood portrays!

looking into architecture can be an interesting way to approach a character. we went through many different unique architectual styles, so if you're describing a character's home, it'll be a very cool move to specify what kind of apartment building they live in, for example

but most importantly remember: it's art you do for yourself first and foremost. don't take any of it as a strict guide you'll be punished for straying away from! we REALLY appreciate you writing for these characters, and you showed you put more thought into it than some of Russian comrades I know <3

and if you have specific questions, never be afraid to ask me or anyone else you know can help.

I hope I didn't scare you even more with this all, lol, I genuinely do appreciate you coming to me for advice, it means a lot when people show interest and effort. If you feel comfortable enough, send me/tag me in your fics, I'll be glad to read them and share with comrades that will enjoy them! From Russia with love ❤️❤️❤️🦍

#juju's replies #gorilla in the snow #cod #call of duty #nikolai cod #nikto cod #makarov cod #russian #writing tips #fuck these tags man i'm too tired to be arsed lol

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